Well, because Lee and I spent two hours at Sprint this morning. With the baby twins.
That, my friends, is the definition of hell.
And because I spilled an entire bowl of oatmeal. On the counter. On the stove. On the floor. On my shirt. And my pants. And my Uggs.
Have you ever cleaned up oatmeal that has splattered over multiple surfaces?
Yeah. It's super fun. Lee and I are contemplating moving so as to avoid the disaster.
My only consolation is that is doesn't seem anywhere near as horrible as the time my little brother spilled an entire bottle of olive oil on the floor. When my mom was pregnant. And sick.
Nothing tops that.
Well, maybe the time my uncles played in the fireplace ashes and then tried to clean themselves up using toothpaste.
Did someone say "Fun Dip?"
Clearly, I need to count my blessings.
Especially because Arielle and Josiah squirreled away some Fun Dip in their play kitchen. Which they silently ate this afternoon.
This story could end up in so many unfortunate places it's rather terrifying.
Arielle's suave enough to keep her green tongue hidden.
Josiah? Yeah, he paraded proudly into the family room, displaying his tongue. Which, to Arielle's great chagrin, sort of gave away their hidden Fun Dip stash.
But how can you still be crabby after seeing that tongue? Particularly when you consider how lucky you are that there isn't Fun Dip EVERYWHERE all over the playroom.
Well, you can't remain crabby. You just can't. At least, not until after bathtime when everyone starts screaming over the same. pink. seahorse. towel.
Then you're perfectly capable of being crabby again.