Yesterday, alone, was quite a day. For starters, he Crayola'd himself from hand to shoulder. By that I mean, both hands and shoulders.
Yes, I've had to coin the term Crayola'd which should tell you something.
As you can see from my photo attempt, he was not happy about showing off his work.
(remember, he does not care for the paparazzi!)
As I was downloading the attempted picture on the Mac, he strolled in with his very soiled diaper down at his knees saying, "I poop on potty?"
No, my love, you pooped in your diaper and there is now residue streaked down both of your legs. Wonderful.
(potty training is starting to look somewhat enticing to me)
Later as I was making dinner, I hadn't seen him for about .9 seconds (which usually means he's had enough time to escape the house and cross into the neighboring suburb) so I asked Madeline to take a peek. She found him covered head-to-toe in conditioner. Completely. Covered. Apparently, he is into body treatments. I wish I could have snapped a picture but honestly, I wanted to scream by brains out I was just trying to handle the whole situation with grace.
Don't laugh but as I was trying to quickly post this I heard some quiet noises in the kitchen. Those are never good. I peeked in to find him pouring an entire box of cereal into a bowl of very little milk. Yes, the breakfast dishes are still on the table. What's your point?
And did I mention it was organic cereal? Read: expensive
I gotta run. Literally, run.
