I have been reminiscing a bit lately, remembering all kinds of "this time last year, Goose was [insert action here]" - such as learning how to walk around the 4th of July. (She was a late walker.) About this time last year, I was comparing our life to the Atari game of Adventure. (Link takes you to Wikipedia.)
[Or better yet, click here to play! Though it's a bit tougher using the arrow keys instead of a joystick and I just figured out how to drop something without picking something else up: use the spacebar. Man, I could waste a ton of time there. We didn't need no stinkin' fancy graphics when I was a kid!]
Anyway. Where I actually was going with this - and it isn't necessarily going to make sense unless you have played the game a lot - is that having a newly walking toddler was kind of like having the bat in our house. I'd leave something somewhere, and when I went back for it, it would be gone. Something new might be in its place. And that thing would be somewhere else, and whatever was there would be gone.
I'm hoping *somebody* out there can relate having played Adventure in their glory days - because this comparison really cracks me up. And now I'm off to play Adventure again, and maybe lean on Hubs to hook up our old Atari . . .