I had 2 three-year-olds over for a playdate and allowed unfettered access to our huge box of big-kid puzzles. They ranged from 24-100 pieces.
Amelie and I spent this morning sorting piles of mixed-up pieces and matching them all into the right boxes again. Two of the puzzles will never be the same, due to the tempting slots leading down 8 feet to our furnace.
I've been a mother for 6 years, and even more embarrassingly, a teacher for 12. What was I thinking?
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