Sunday, August 17, 2014
I'm still tasting the pleasure that comes from such an idea, while stirring in the raw sugar into my coffee, when I hear footsteps. FOILED. Someone is up. I add creamer and turn, to see three children coming down the hallway. It's now 7:15. And my plans just changed.
Then we've got the potty training. And while he's mastered the peeing, the pooping in the pants is getting old. And tiresome. And let's just say it, it's gross as hell. If I were made of money all poop filled underwear would go in the trash. But I'm not. So, it's gross. Props to my husband who does almost all the recovery effort on those.
Perfect day? Yes, that's a perfect day.