Warning: this is gross.
The other day while I changed the sheets on my bed, B came clambering out from beneath the bed and declared, "You found da milk!" and raised a sippie cup to his lips.
Now, I knew that his current sippie cup of milk was safely stored in the fridge and it only took me a fraction of a second to realize this was not going to be pretty.
"Nooooo...." I cried, and lurched toward him, unsuccessfully attempting to vault over a tangled mess of sheets.
Too late.
For the next few days, every time B spotted a sippie cup he'd ask, "Is dat da nasty milk?"
Hey - it's not called Good Mama Moments, ya know.
***
Raking
This past weekend B and I were outside raking together. A lovely, cool October evening.
He had his rake and I had mine. He even managed to put a few handfuls of leaves INTO the wheelbarrow! Working, chatting, playing. It was all very Enjoying The Small Things.
That is, until I bent over to pick up a handful of yard debris and he hit me squarely over the back of the head with his (full sized) rake. He brought it straight up over his head lumberjack style - as if he was splitting wood and I was the unfortunate log.
Jeepers! How's your head??
ReplyDeleteOh I'm good - hard head and all :)
ReplyDelete