slipping a little further down in the ranks
Since we already know that I'm not in the running for the "Best mom in the universe", I decided that I'd just slip a little father down in the list last night. (In fact, it's so well known that people stop me at Wal-Mart to comment about it. fat bastard grumble grumble) Ally was grumpy and wanted peanut butter for supper. I gave her some crackers, and was getting the giant tub (Rob loves peanut butter) of peanut butter down when she decided that she wanted to do it. So I gave it to her while I got out a butter knife. She took it from me and stuck it in the jar and said "ally do it" So, I let her. She made a PB mess. But she was having a lot of fun playing with knives. That's the important thing right? Yeah, yeah, it was a butter knife. She would have had to try very hard to hurt herself with it. What she did instead, was to try - mostly in vain - to 1) get some on the knife 2) transfer it to the cracker and 3) keep it off her fingers. She gave up occasionally and licked the knife instead.*

I had never before realized what skill it takes to spread PB on a cracker. Twice, she dropped the knife on my freshly mopped floor. nd once she screamed for no apparent reason. When I asked her why, she said "hair in the face" So I moved it, but my hands were wet, because I was doing dishes, and then she had to comment on how now her hair was wet. Picky child. Anyway, she had fun, and managed to eat dinner without hurting herself, or giving me a headache.

* Don't tell Rob about that part. He would throw a fit about the saliva in the PB jar and how saliva breaks down food, blah, blah blah. He made me buy my own jar of PB when I was in the puking phase of pregnancy, so I wouldn't eat from the spoon out of his jar. We'll just let this be our little secret.

Hey, I remembered to SpellCheck both of the entries so far today. Yippee