So a few of you may have been wondering about that picture in the last post:
Okay… so only one person asked in writing here, but a few family members couldn’t figure it out.
Would it help to see the picture just before? And to realize that Itty Bit was heading skyward in a complete backwards flip?
(Ahhh yes Mommies – feel free to scream)
And it wasn’t enough to shave fourteen years off my life by doing it ONCE.
Oh no, those boys wanted to see what it was like to try the other direction too!
There are more pictures, but this is all my poor heart can handle in one post.
The kid was so wired that the only decent looking.at.the.camera shot was achieved by the mamarazzi running backwards in front of him and him finally tripping for this:
I love you kid, but you make me work really hard for these.
I have no idea why Itty Bit seems to think everyone exists to swing him around:
Now that I’ve overloaded you with pictures, I’ll just sit here and reminisce about the fact that I used to lift up that “kid” in the above picture. I mean the big one. Wavy has gotten a wee bit bigger since I swung him around – gosh I feel old.
Especially considering that this is Wavy’s little brother:
Who I can still pick up, thank you very much :P
In other “I’m Not Even Kidding” news, we went to church.
I mean, not that our attendance is particularly newsworthy, except that the usual Sunday School teacher wasn’t there, so Itty Bit sat with us in the service.
OY. I’d forgotten what an adventure that could be. My darling, shy-around-people boy took a few steps away from the end of the row and started to run off when Mr. Daddy did that clenched teeth stage whisper, “you get back here right now!”
And of course our little guy stopped dead in his tracks and hollered (in a church full of worshippers mind you),
“BUT I HAFTA GO PEE-PEE!”
More “I’m Not Even Kidding” at church:
The grandmother of a set of teeny tiny twin baby girls was enjoying the music as another family member set next to her holding one of the newborns.
In a moment of worship, Grandma stood up, got a little too excited about clapping, and swung her arm wide to roundly clock the poor infant upside the head.
So shocked that she’d full-on backhanded the infant that Grandma dramatically gasped and fell forward – losing her balance and crashing into the seats in front of her. I didn’t know who to feel worse for!
And since I’m going on Week Three of not having a voice, I’m blaming my poor wardrobe choices on this illness that just won’t quit. Of course I wore two different shoes to the office. That was fully intentional.
As if my previous “I’m Not Even Kidding” kitchen stories weren’t enough… I’m proof that you should never attempt to cook while high on Nyquil.
That pot roast slid right into the crockpot. Complete with the plastic absorbent thingie stuck to the bottom.
Yeah. Guess when I caught that???
(No three-year olds ate any plastic, thankyouverymuch. I was still sick, remember? He had Cheetos for dinner).
Stay tuned for tomorrow’s recap of my ultimate “I’m Not Even Kidding” moment – since Mr. Daddy has soundly threatened me with the retelling. *sigh*
(Revenge is sweet Baby, revenge is sweet)