Fight or Flow

I can’t even say how much I love this post…

Little Miss Perfect

I had been in the shower for only a few seconds when thirty pounds of fury began beating on the door. I opened it, cross because this was supposed to be my uninterrupted shower time, with said thirty pounds of fury being watched by my husband.

“Where the shit IS he?!” I exclaimed, as Jack stepped first one chunky toddler leg, then the other over the side of the tub and plopped down. The drain was badly in need of some sort of drain opener, so Jack was now splashing around at my feet in a couple of inches of dirty, soapy standing water. By the time G. got there, Jack had dipped his face in it and was rubbing the soap bubbles in his hair.

“This,” I said, pointing down at Jack, “is what happens when you’re supposed to be watching the baby and you let him watch cartoons…

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2 thoughts on “Fight or Flow

Sit a spell.

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