I used to say a version of this all.the.time to my husband. Sometimes, I would attempt to be more tactful. Others, I’d just be frustrated and say it straight out. Even if I’m the one who messed up the nice thing.
Enter small human. Who makes bigger messes than anyone I’ve ever met. Let’s get this straight. I love the boy. More than I ever imagined. But I suspect my frustration at day 7 of rice cereal is merely the tip of the proverbial iceberg.
Last night as I was crawling into bed, I wondered what the crust was on my shirt. Yeah. A 6″x4″ crusty spot of cereal. On my back. How does this happen?
And this introduces a new series on lpod. I’m just guessing, but think this will be the first of many posts about the things my child will destroy with his cuteness over the next 25 years.