We babysat the boys this evening for an hour until their dad got out of class. Fat Baby tromped around the house in my pink heels (he LOVES those shoes), ran up and slid down the stairs, tried to drink out of the dog dish, pounded on the table with his spoon, refused to eat his chicken for dinner, and was not pleased when he was refused dessert. When dinner was finally over, he ran around putting his little grubby hands on anything he could touch.
"No, Ian. Leave it alone".
"No Ian, hands to yourself".
"No Fat Baby, you can't play with the hammer, put it down!"
It's true what they say about idle hands....
So, I put him to work. Proud of child labor :)
"Cheese!"
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