Seriously? If you were pissed because I said you will have to get a job in order to get things from here on out that you
Back to the downside, what do you mean you came shopping for pants and didn't wear boxers?!? Dude. Oh wait, maybe it was my offer to buy you some man panties that made you decide to go straight home? Or was it the way I didn't get so excited about your free-through-this-guy-on-the-Internet computer repair tech training that's going to help you become a department manager at Staples?
Well, this could be either of the girls, but in this case I'm thinking about how Mad and I had to have The Talk. You know, the one where I explained, "Listen, when we see Aunt Carol with the baby in her tummy, we're going to talk about how beautiful she is and how lovely. Even though you've been especially interested lately in how my body pushed you out, we're not going to talk about that with her. Okay?"
For further clarification, I am not referring to the conversation my 21 month old wee bebe had with her father recently, wherein she asked, "Chase boys?"
And in no way am I referring to this conversation with Fynnie Fynn:
Me: What happened to your diaper?
Fynnie, one hand on her bare heinie: Um, wew (well)... dipey *mumble mumble* cyimb!"
Me: Your dipey came off because you were trying to climb?
Here's the crappy cell pic to
Again, could be either girl. However, this is about Fynnie asking to be carried like a baby. She hasn't let it happen in months now, and it only took place because she was copying her big sister, who would give just about anything to be the baby these days... while still maintaining her position as the leader of the pack, of course. Fynnie let me carry her down the hall and into her room, all the while looking up with a satisfied little smile. I had the same smile, I'm sure. That would be a change from the days when I regularly carried her like a baby. I'll forever think of those days as the time when I just barely made it through.