Potty Talk

Because you don't buy a smoothie.  You rent it.

Because you don’t buy a smoothie. You rent it.

Hello, America.  It’s me again.  Sorry it has been so long.  I will try to do better.  But no time to waste with apologies.  I know you forgive me.  (Thanks, America.  Kiss, kiss.)  Down to the business at hand.

Potty training.

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Emma in the ER

Not Emma's actual doctor

Not Emma’s actual doctor

ONE MONTH.

Seriously, Mommy?  You could not find a SINGLE thing to write about in the past MONTH?  What about that adorable thing I do when I have half a bowl of cereal left in front of me and I cock my head and say, “Mo’ cereal, Mommy?”  (Hey, some of us still have a Depression-era mentality.  What if the cereal runs out?  Don’t give me that look, woman.  I’ve seen the way you shovel this stuff down your throat.)  And how about when I’m playing hide-and-seek and as soon as I hear you coming I jump out of my hiding spot and yell, “TA-DA!” . . .?  And don’t you think America needs to know that I can now count to ten in Spanish?!?  (English, not so much.)  AND. WHAT. ABOUT. THE. FACT. THAT. I. NOW. HAVE. VISIBLE. HAIR?!?

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