Friday, July 21, 2006
At Least I Know It Was A Really Clean Toe
The tub was a fluffy blob of whiteness tonight with little N's face peeking out between for a towel to wipe his eyes. Again. That's what you get with 1/2 a bottle of Mr. Bubble AND 7/8 of a bottle of Strawberry-scented suave kid's shampoo (with the snail on it, the fancy Loreal doesn't have a snail). "Smell my hair mommy!"
There were so many bubbles that the manual egg beater (that somehow suddenly appeared in the tub) was creating bubbles not only at the beater part, but at the handle. Froth! Bubbles, people, I'm talking some major bubbles!
And in the midst of my bubble story - hark! Is that the quiet complaints of our littlest from downstairs? Lo. It is. By the time I walked through the office, down the stairs, across the living room, the dining room and into the hallway, quietly cooing to calm him that I was coming, J had gotten out of bed, galumped across his room, into my room and was on his way back into his bedroom. He shot me a look and kept on galumping like "You?! Forget it lady - it's WAY too late for you to be trying to calm me down!"
But I did. And as I peeked back into the room to see if everyone was settled in and cozy enough, there was J, quietly nursing on N's toe.