It Has a Lovely Bouquet
If you had told me yesterday that I would be able to write this true sentence, I would not have believed you:
This morning, BabyGirl actually ate cat poop for the second time in her life.
Thank you, I’ll be accepting my Mother of the Year award from Brittany Spears.
I mean, really? Don’t you think once is enough to figure out it tastes like, . . . oh, I don’t know, CRAP?? We were leaving her bedroom to come downstairs this morning, and she stopped outside the bathroom door. The litter was in that bathroom because of our holiday guests. I was still a little drowsy, and vaguely saw her pick something up and put it in her mouth. Then I saw more on the floor and realized the cat must’ve stepped in poop and been shaking it off as she ran out of the bathroom, down the hall, and down the stairs. (‘Cause she’s too stupid to realize that’s poop stuck to her foot and thinks there’s a Cat Boogey Man trying to grab her by the toe. Idiot cat.)
BabyGirl sampled a little bit, then spit it out and started gagging and coughing. Does that mean she’ll be hesitant to try it a THIRD time? A girl can dream.
Which of These Things is Not Like the Other?
We took the kids into Washington DC yesterday to see the Madame Toussauds wax museum. Not as many figures as in London, but it was still fun. Here’s the one mystery moment: we were in a room and spread around were the figures of Rosa Parks; Malcolm X; Martin Luther King, Jr; and . . .wait for it . . .Yoko Ono. Maybe she was just holding Ghandi’s place while he was getting some wax repair done? I can only hope.
