Christmas, you say? Oh no.
It’s the time of the year that it’s socially acceptable to put your kids in silly outfits/costumes and parade them about!
I love it.
(The bags were a costume recognition safeguard)
(Payne is feeling fabulously festive)
I LOVE IT.
“It’s so bright. Why are you doing this to ussss!”
“Ooh! Bouncy house! Day salvaged.”
“Oh, the plans we have for you. Muah ha ha.”
I LOVE ITTTT!!!
“Well if he’s a Jedi….”
Heh heh heh!
“I always get the costumes lacking fancy futuristic weaponry.”
(Rachel passes out, having been overcome by fun.)
For starters, my dogs haven’t eaten in a day because
I took away the mat in front of their dog bowls.
What?! There are starving dogs in China who’d love to eat that food, bare booty on the tile and all!
And I went to pick up Payne from school and thought “Man, they really slacked on smocks during art today.”
I got closer.
Nope. That’s yogurt.
Then when his teacher saw me laughing she said “I don’t know when that happened. He was clean until I sent him to throw his trash away!”
So somewhere between his desk and the back of his room, his yogurt tube and it’s dredges spontaneously combusted. It’s the only viable explanation.
Myself, another Mom, and his teachers were cracking up.
-You get a significant high as a direct result of coordinating pajama sets:
-You notice while rinsing out a large yogurt tub that it would make a fabulous kid barf bucket (Heck, it’s even disposable!) and cheerfully stow it away for an unknown but inevitable hour of need.
– You are thrilled, THRILLED, to eat alone in a restaurant.
– You cannot wear black. The boogers and drool show by 10 am.
– You are too tired to make a creative list beyond five bullet points by early Monday evening.
And the boy is a shoe-in. He engineered his sister’s hair himself.
I breed geniuses.
In no particular order.
The ONLY vegetable she will eat is edamame. She shoves them into her mouth as fast as she can and then asks for “mo beans peez”.
I have no idea why he looks 8 years old, and he needs to STOP IT.
I kept catching some sticky fingers hovering around my pound cupcakes…
Something I’m not sure I thought I’d ever see. She was wearing the boots, and only the boots. Ha.
I managed to wrestle a diaper and shirt on her later. She got called “boho chic” twice when I shared this photo. Heh.
What else does one do with a garden tub? I nicknamed it “the lint trap”, so their new obsession with it is actually a step up.
Genevieve is quite the little talker, and she has one verbal quirk that I find endlessly amusing. It’s pretty simple, just transposing G’s and D’s.
“I put it in duh darbage.”
“Yay! Yodirt! (Yogurt)”.
“I see Deeny (Granny) today?”
“I dot it!”
“Yummy drapes!” (Haa ha ha)
It’s little paybacks like these that mayyyybe help offset the annoyance of scrubbing spaghetti sauce off of window blinds. Maybe.
G came up to me clutching a plastic saw and fiercely whispered “Mommy! I kihwd da boys!”.
My little drama queen.
My little photo bomber.