A Load of Laundry

1115 1115_ () 1115 1115 Henry loves me so much. He knows how much I enjoy doing laundry (I really do. I’m not being facetious.) and he wanted me to have a fun-filled Friday. So he pooped all over everything in sight.

His room is now stripped bare — no sheet, no mattress pad, no pad on the changing table, no extra clothes laying around anywhere. It’s all in the washer. Henry is left to huddle on the floor on the one blanket he has not pooped on, seeking solace in the company of friends.

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The (soccer) gods must be crazy

I just found out we will finish the soccer season with a bang — four games on Saturday. At least it’s Saturday and not Tuesday. Otherwise you’d be dragging me off the field after I collapsed into the fetal position.

Things I’ve Said Today (not to Henry)

“Yes, son, I think you have pooped at least a thousand times since you were born.”

Stolen Moments

8:16 p.m. — I’m coping with the last few minutes before bedtime by hiding out at my computer. The boys have turned my couch into an Oliphaunt, which, by the sounds of things they are trying to defeat. I think they’re winning. Bedtime: four minutes and counting…