Macklin fell asleep with silly putty in his hand. Seriously, it was about the size of a marble. There just wasn't that much of it, and yet it spread this far—the stuff on his tractor PJs is bigger than my palm, and some on Emma's cute throw pillow, and some on my furry blanket. All fleecy, furry things which will be difficult to clean out. Harrumph. (Click on the photo for bigger version.)
Then he peed in his underwear this morning, after months and months and months with no accidents. Is he trying to make me sell him to the gypsies?
1 comment:
"Is he trying to make me sell him to the gypsies?" This is so funny, I will definantly be saying this to my kids someday, just for fun!
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