At the grocery
Child 3, who is 5 years old, steals out of the big a** cart to stand by some produce.
Me…I told you to stay seated.
Him…You told me to go away when I need to toot. I am tooting.
Me? What can I say.
In other hard hitting news, I made an apple crisp tonight. A homemade apple crisp. Rolled oats, brown sugar, nutmeg, the whole nine yards. My children think I ROCK. In truth? I’m tired of feeling guilty about throwing out what once were perfectly good apples, that we end up not eating, and get mushy. But if they want to think I’m SuperMom, that’s all good with me.
