First from fear, then death-by-cuteness.
I went downstairs to start a load of emergency blow-out poop laundry (glamorous) when Maggie started to fuss. Suddenly she stopped. If there is one thing I’ve learned, silence is not golden, silence is trouble.
If the boys are playing in the basement and I hear crashes and screams and shouts I know all is well. If I hear nothing they are likely playing sandcastles in the cat litter or trying to open the fireplace. Silence is BAD in my world.
I digress… so suddenly Maggie stops crying. I drop everything and run up stairs taking the steps two at a time. At the top I find this:
Sometimes the cuteness around here is deadly.