Anthony ate our homemade guacamole one night this week.  We left him alone for a few minutes, and voilà--it was gone.  It was enough for all five of us for our Mexican dinner.

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I think I ought to be afforded a moral exemption for smacking Anthony when he takes the laces out of his sneakers.  I took him with me to his younger brother's soccer practice, and when we arrived and I was about to let him out of the car, I saw him as he was just pulling the laces out of the last eyelets.  Don't know why I didn't notice it earlier--but I guess I wouldn't when I'm trying to pay attention to driving?

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Anthony was literally hopping mad yesterday morning. I heard him being upset on his bed, so I asked him if he wanted to go to the bathroom.  He didn't get up, so I went to the bathroom instead.  He resumed screaming, so I told him to come into the bathroom, where he jumped up and down as he yelled.  I told him to sit on the floor, and then he banged his head into the floor, the walls, the cabinets, and the bathtub skirt.  That is now officially beyond repair, by the way.  I have been meaning to try to piece it together and cement it, but I will just have to look for something else to replace it that is hopefully inexpensive.

He did finally go to the bathroom.  I still don't know if that was the issue, though.