It's all January gloom and rain here--the perfect day for hunkering down indoors.
So I may or may not be wearing my spit-up covered nightgown at nearly 2 p.m.
But at least I had the common decency to pair it with six-year-old sweatpants (new, in my book), purple and white-striped fluffy socks, and a red, fleece zip-up.
And I'm not even gonna tell you about the window-cleaning project I conducted in said ensemble. Except to say that it left me fearful of a call from child protective services based on the EIGHT incriminating cleaning rags it took just to see through the glass.
What can I say? My husband is a lucky, lucky man.
At least his eyes are drawn to his beloved child when he walks through the door every night. That spares his corneas from the direct shock.
No comments:
Post a Comment