Last night I was sitting in the living room, trying to relax, when baby sneaky-crawled into the kitchen. I assumed that she was going to throw all her food pouches off her “special shelf” as she does twelve thousand times a day. I was wrong. I listened for the familiar thud of overpriced baby food pouches hitting the floor, but they never came. Instead I heard the rattle of tiny objects being slung around. As realization dawned on me I yelled “NOOO!” and ran in to the kitchen. Baby was elbow deep in the dogs bowl, rapidly waving her hands about in the bottom of the dish and gleefully throwing handfuls of kibble in to the air. “NO!” I repeated as I lunged toward her. She took this onslaught as an extreme affront to her artistry and proceeded to try and quickly shove some delicious kibble in her tiny mouth. “NO!” I squealed and grabbed the tasty morsels from her hand. She screamed furiously and did a backward lunge at the food dish. But I was quicker than her, as she is very small and therefore her coordination is horrible. Mommy for the win! I then had the audacity to wash her grubby little raccoon hands, which was also met with wailing and an attempt to bite me. I am proud to say that she just ended up biting herself
Daddy wonders why Mummy can’t keep the house clean. This is why. I have a baby raccoon hiding around the corner, just waiting to get into trouble. Even as I type this, she is trying to open a bottle of nail polish that she swiped from the bedside table.