Apparently tubby time is all fun and games until you get enough soap up your nose to blow snotty sud bubbles. Then all bets are off and its game over.
Tuesday:
Don't laugh at me: I thought little boys learned potty humor from each other and that's what made it so funny for them. Nope. Now that I have my own baby boy, I've learned that they inherently find farts and fart noises funny.
Wednesday:
I put Small Fry in the big bathtub (in half an inch of water) all by himself today for the first time. Who knew someone so small in so little water could thoroughly soak my bathroom? The little guy's breaststroke kick is excellent! Oh the tears when I drained the water and took him out.
Thursday:
This.
Friday:
I flew Laughlin around the bed like an airplane and tried to get him to drop spit bombs on Daddy. He wouldn't. He spit up on me instead and giggled. Joke's on Mom, it always is.
Saturday:
I need to stop saying each blowout is the biggest of Small Fry's life. I think he's now considering it a challenge to outdo the last one.
Sunday:
How was I ever happy before I married Anthony?
How did ever feel joy before I held Laughlin?
How did I could love unconditionally before both made me a mother?
