This weekend has been fairly uneventful. I did some shopping for fall clothes for my odd-shaped little girl. She fits solidly in a size 2 top, but on bottom 12-18 months fits just right. She was blessed with the stumpy legs passed on from my paternal grandfather, to my dad, then to me.
Then we went for ice cream yesterday afternoon. She was all excited to go, shouting ‘Ice Keeeem! Ice Keeeem!’ before we left, but when we got there I literally had to tackle her, put her in a choke hold and force feed her even just one spoonful. And this was in the restaurant. Boy, am I ever an embarrasing mommy. Just joshing. I didn’t force her, but I was very confused over how any oxygen breathing human being could even hesitate when offered
God’s sweet nectar ice cream. Very, very weird. Maybe she isn’t related to me. She must have been switched at birth with some other dwarf-legged baby.
For dinner last night? Ketchup. Served on a bed of stew, for display purposes only.
She eventually ate the stew when she accidentally discovered that it was edible and not just a fancy plate used to present the ketchup on.
Today’s second breakfast was her favourite. PANCAKES!!! She can pound those back like nobody’s business. And the second best part of pancakes besides the fact that they’re pancakes? The syrup. It’s like a meal on it’s own. So delicious, or ‘lishus’ as Eirinn describes it.
Must…get…every…last…drop. Sooooo goooood.
Right now Eirinn is at Bubba’s house so we can clean (me) and cook (Anonymous Husband) because tonight we’re having Anonymous Husband’s Anonymous Family over for