I just spent my morning scalding my hands on waffle steam as I tried to get a two week batch done during what has become known as The Great Waffle Debacle. You know how sometimes, randomly, your waffle maker's (if you have a really cheap $7 one) nonstick surface becomes a stick surface... and no matter what you do... your waffles split when you try to get them out (hence the steam burns) and you spend the next hour oiling your irons and opening your waffle maker a tiny crack and trying to shimmy the top down with a butter knife? Yeah well that is what happened to me this morning. I'd be damned if I was going to have to toss two weeks worth of waffle batter... so struggle through I did. Baby kept herself occupied by "washing" the dishes... thanks for the help. And asking me for "peme in my mouth" (turns out Mr F shoots whipped cream in the girls mouth)... and I obliged. Hey... anything to keep her occupied for a second.
Also, for no real reason, I've been meaning to share that Baby has been in that common 2 year old phase of needing to bring a whole bunch of random shit with her wherever we go. When we walk to get Kid from school the stroller basket is chock full of all sorts of household items. She'll actually keep running back in the house saying "my cup, my book, my spoon, my spatula, my this" as she grabs whatever randomness (luckily for her we keep a lot of randomness right by the door) she can find. You can actually see her scan a room like The Terminator looking for whatever would be the most embarrassing and cumbersome thing to make me carry out in public. Well, today I told her I wanted to go to the fabric store (usually she yells NO at me when I suggest any type of errand... but she was doing dishes and so was in a relatively good mood) and she said "And my napkin?" "Yes." "And my egg thing (egg slicer)?" "Sure." And thus began our negotiations. I'll be the frazzled lady at the store with the kid in the cart holding an egg slicer. Bring your eggs. And if you are ever wondering how someone's car can get filled with shit... look for a carseat. That might be your answer. Hopefully next time I make egg salad I'll remember to check the car for that damned slicer.
This is Baby getting ready for the car (behind her is her stash):
basket of tampons and extra Old Spice deodorant, box of panty liners, napkin, egg slicer, whisk, and wipes tub full of markers. Some people would say "Set some limits... tell her no". Have you seen this child. She's freaking adorable. You tell her no. Just kidding... really... with Baby I chose my battles. If I want to go to the fabric store... carting around a tub of her shit is a cross I'm willing to bear. Plus... she often says "Pease".