Yesterday afternoon, we were sitting on the couch watching the Red Sox, and I had my feet on the coffee table. I was wearing capris, and WHM kept rubbing my (scratchy, sorry, but it's true) legs. And he said, "Mommy, your legs have the chicken pops."
Back to that morning when he said Mick was fuzzy. I found the conversation below scribbled on a piece of paper that I just discovered as I am finally attacking the "To Do" pile in my office. Clearly, I meant to write about it but it got lost in the abyss of the "to do" pile, so here it is.
CAM brought in a bunch of stuffed animals to our bed. Mick and I both fussed in protest, not realizing she'd also apparently put a bunch of animals on our bedroom floor. "No, the animals all need to go in YOUR room, or we'll throw them away!"
She started to explain to us that she had good animals and bad animals ... and she was okay with getting rid of the bad animals, apparently.
CAM: "Well, the good animals are on the floor. On your bed are just the junk animals. I tried to sell one to William, but he didn't want to buy it."
Oh, she's mine, alright. Alllllll mine.