Friday the 13th

I'm not a superstitious person, but Friday the 13th always makes me a little nervous. You see, 13 years ago, my family was awakened early one Friday morning (you guessed it...it was also the 13th day of the month) to a house quickly filling up with smoke. My then soon-to-be Eagle scout brother heard the alarm we slept through, and ran
through the house alerting the other eight of us, and even getting the dog out safely. As we ran out into the snow on that cold, Michigan, February morning, my sweet sister Maria began to cry. "Don't worry," we told her, "we'll be alright!" "It's not that!" She protested, "I'm not wearing any pants!" Pants or no, we piled into our station wagon and watched as not one, not two, but seven fire trucks pulled up to our billowing home to quench the threatening flames. The radio was tuned to the oldies station, and as "the pied piper" played in the background, my ears distinctly heard the lyric "I'm the fire fighter..."  Luckily (pun intended) the only permanent damage was to the laundry room, where I (yes, I) had put a load in the dryer late at night. The rest of the house was permeated with smoke, though, and we moved, temporarily, to a hotel while things were scrubbed from top to bottom. My sister and I both recall comments about camp fires at school that day, although we thought the clothes we had salvaged smelled okay. I guess "okay" is relative.
So another Friday the 13th is here. And I will go about my business with a touch of nervousness. But not enough to keep me from driving my little family through 5 states to NYC this afternoon. I might just rub my lucky rabbit's foot to be safe, though. Or more likely, offer a silent prayer. Which should probably be a prayer of gratitude. Because that day could have been so much worse. And I'm pretty sure it was more than luck that kept us safe.
Happy Friday the 13th everyone! (And for the record, I don't own a lucky rabbit's foot).

Munchkin off Sugar

This little munchkin fell asleep during dinner the other day. I think she's getting tired of watching the rest of us eat. Time to start rice cereal, perhaps?
In other news, Jon and I are not eating sugar for the month of May. It's been a bit easier than I thought it would be thanks to loads of fruit, but the side effects have been astonishing! Not only do Jon and I feel great and have lots of energy, but Olivia (who still eats the occasional grahm cracker, but by association eats MUCH less sugar than before) seems to have emerged from her premature case of the terrible twos, and has been an absolute delight! I admit that I always thought that people who didn't let their kids eat any sugar were demonstrating nazi tendencies, but I have been humbled to discover that they just might be on to something. I am now very interested in researching the effect of sugar on children, and I think this change might become a semi-permanent one. Thoughts?