Butterflies in my tummy

Hmm.  It appears while I have been on indefinite hiatus blogger has changed its format.  Now I'm going to have to re-learn how to operate the blasted thing.  Ugh.

Right, so, the main reason I haven't climbed back in the saddle as regularly as hoped is that the OCD part of me hates to leave gaps in a narrative, and there's far too much missing to catch you up on everything, ergo I've fallen too far behind to start up again.  The mountain is insurmountable, or something.

So I've just had the artistic, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants, leaves-tea-cups-everywhere side of my brain beat the OCD side into temporary submission and put up a post. It would be nice to have some comments from the old gang, if any of you are still out there.

I'm not even going to try to give you a summary of the past two years, I'm just going to start as though I'd never stopped, and maybe now and again fill in a bit of back story maybe.

Yesterday Small Pirate, aka Pirette, did the most extraordinary thing.  She was watching telly and playing with her magnadoodle (which hadly leaves her side).  The man on TV was talking about butterflies.  She scribbled on her magnadoodle for a moment, then waved wildly to get my attention from the kitchen.  I turned around and she made the sign for butterfly (we do a lot of signing around here), then pointed at her magnadoodle. This is what I saw:

And she's not even 2 yet!  My baby's a GYNIUS!