Overheard at my house today.
The scene: My bathroom. I am standing, facing the mirror, attempting to make something out of the mop of hair I let loose from its scrunchy. Running short on time, I decide not to blow dry and curl the hair today, to instead go with the curly, mid '80's Bon Jovi hair that I've perfected quite well over the last 20 years.
William has pulled himself to a standing position on the backs of my calves and is hanging on unsteadily. I slowly reach for the sink to turn on the water, making sure not to move too quickly. David is standing looking into the bathtub, then throws an orange plastic cup with glee against the porcelain tub. (this is his newest hobby, throwing items just for the fun of it) I am wondering where my husband is when Sofia enters the bathroom...
"Mommy, I have a poopy!" She loudly exclaims.
"Okkkkk...let me know when you are done, I will change your diaper."
"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Can I eat poopy?"
"No, I would not recommend that."
"Can I eat pee-pee?"
"No, that probably wouldn't be a good idea either."
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