Two weeks ago we babysat three adorable wee girlies while their parents went on a (much needed) overnight vacation. Wee girly #2, a four year old, made this fab excuse, as she and I together surveyed her lap full of spaghetti: "Oh! I'm not a messy eater. I just got bad spaghetti."
I was reminded of it yesterday, when Son knocked over something on the kitchen counter, and blurted: "Wow. My elbow just got a growth spurt. No really!"
A time-stamped case of the Mondays
10 hours ago