It's Friday! In 4 minutes, I will leave my little cave, grab my husband and go pick up the baby. She will shriek with completely unrestrained delight upon our arrival and will wail pitifully when we buckle her in her carseat. Fortunately, we have THE LION. THE LION is the magic soothall that turns L.s tears to chortles of glee. THE LION has spitup embedded in his mane and in the fluffy bit at the end of his tail. He is remarkably tolerant of all things slobbery and slimy that are part and parcel of a baby and L. adores him.
Tonight is pizza night. On our way home, we will pick up pizzas. My sweet husband's parents will be returning our 3 (and a half) year old after a day of unadulterated spoiling interspersed with way too many hours watching Thomas on the old boob tube and joining us for dinner. Cooking on Friday night is strictly verboten in my household, so pizza it is.
TGFPJ (Thank Goodness for Papa John's)
M.W.
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