Hang in with me here - It's been quite a day.
We started today just like we begin every weekend day around here - with a home improvement project. Today, we came a few steps closer to having a working pantry and linen closet. In fact, you helped your dad put the rails on my sliding shelves. And while you're great at construction work, it seems you could also have a brilliant future as a plumber:
Today was notable for a few reasons. First, your dad shot himself in the finger with the nail gun. He decided he was fine, put a Band-Aid on it, and kept going. I would have been more concerned, but that particular accident seems to happen to a certain side of your family so often that it could almost be called "pulling a Burbach."
Also, this morning was memorable because you were in such a foul mood, and seemed determined to stay that way. I love you and all, but you were a complete pain in the hiney. Your dad and I tried everything - from letting you drive the truck to having arts and crafts time.
Peg Peg even got on the phone with you to have a talk about how you should be nicer to your parents, and how much better you would feel if you took a nap.
I would say it went in one ear and out the other, but that would be giving too much credit to the first ear.
The one bright spot in your afternoon was when you figured out that you could put your stool under the row of switches in the hallway and control all of the lights and fans downstairs. You were so serious about your control panel that your dad started singing "Ground Control To Major Laney." Any time your dad sings, it's a win-win.
As soon as you climbed down from the stool, you were back to whining and moaning. I started floating the idea that you were possessed by the devil and needed a nap/exorcism combo. Your dad said "Maybe she's sick. I was sick last week and you couldn't tell by looking at me - I just felt awful." Hmmm, maybe. But I still would have put $5 on supernatural possession.
So we all got in the car and drove to Home Depot, hoping you would finally get some sleep if we put you in your car seat. And you know what's weird? On our way out the door, I grabbed a dishtowel and put it in the diaper bag. No idea why. But stay tuned.
When we got to Home Depot, you were ornery. Didn't want juice. Didn't want a banana. Didn't want to help me pick out paint. You know what you DID want to do? Projectile vomit on me in the Electrics section.
Yep.
So I pulled out my psychic-moment dishtowel and the wipes and cleaned you up, cleaned me up, and cleaned up the floor (you're welcome, Home Depot). Then I grabbed you and found your dad over in Lumber so we could get the car keys and I could tell him where to find our cart.
I'm sure public puking is a rite of passage for every mom, and I hope I handled it okay. Thankfully, you seemed to feel better right away. You drank some juice in the car, had some animal crackers and were a new person.
In fact, this was you right before you went to bed tonight:
Here's hoping this was an isolated incident, and we wake up tomorrow ready to face the week.
Love,
Mom
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