"Who put it there?"
"I did. Can you take it off?"
That shouldn't have been a complicated question. I mean clearly the correct, humane, research-backed option is to remove the Band-Aid from your toddler's mouth. But he had been so, so whiny earlier...
"Could I take it off in five minutes?"
"Daddy."
"You're right. I'll take it off."
Riiiip.
"Ow! Dat hut, Daddy."
"Did it, Rowan? Did it hurt?"
It was one of those days. Some good moments:
But mostly the kids impersonated various zoo animals all day, hooting and screeching and bellowing and snarling and sniveling. And you also see all that shit on the floor behind them. The tip of the iceberg.
Dinner:
Still in pajamas. They each ate half an apple and one cheesy noodle before shouting that they were done. Went to bed in those same pajamas. Now they both seem to be asleep, but it wouldn't surprise me if they've crawled out their windows and are hunting squirrels around the neighborhood.
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