"Quarky Things" Tag..

Lauren: The Quarkiest thing I can think of about Lauren is she can not handle any kind of change. If I tell her that we are going to wal-mart, and I stop off at a gas station on my way, she starts to cry. If I rearrange the furnature, it takes her all day to fell comfortable in that room again. She has to have all her things in exactly the same spot in her room. And she is very particular about possesions. If you tell her not to take the toy away because it is someone ealses, she totally understands. On the other hand, she has a hard time sharing because it is her toy or book or whatever. She even gets upset when I sit in "Daddy's chair" even when chad is not home.
Evan: He is only 6 months old, so it is kind of hard to see quarky thing about him. He scatches his head when he is stressed out or tired. I have to cut his nails every two days and he still ends up scratching himself pritty good. He is always smiling and so happy all the time though. This picture of him is when he was sick for about a week. He always gives you a smile not matter how he feels.
Chad: Oh, my perfect wonderful best friend-slash-husband. He is the most positive easy going sensitive person I know. He always helps me to look on the bight side and he makes me feel better about things that are out of my control (I tend to worry about things that I really have no control over). But even though he is the least judgmental most positive person I can think of, he is also a gold metal complainer. He can out complain a two year old. He can find a complant where lesser men have found no fault anywhere. I never have to complain because I know that he has it covered. If I see something that I would normally compain about and Chad doesn't mention it, I just figure it must not be that big a deal because the world champion of complainers didn't point it out. I havn't truely complained in five years thanks in part to my perfect Chad.
Which leads me to ME: I am the biggest klutz on the face of the planet. If there is a small peble on the sidewalk, my feet will find it and trip over it. Things inexplicably fly out of my hands and break. I always end up finding cords to trip over and stairs to fall down. I always find mystery bruises on my arms and legs. Chad has stoped asking me if I am Ok when I fall down. It has just become par for the course. And that is the quarky things about the Triplett family.

I am going to play Molly's trick and say that anyone who reads this (and wants to) consider yourself tagged.