Shake Your Booty

I'm a horrible mother. We need to find another daycare for Animal. ASAP. My husband picked her up today, brought her home, and the first thing I noticed when they came home was she was wearing her extra pants. Artwork casualty? Yogurt fun? Nope. Her pants were too small. Now, we started the morning in a pair of jeans that looked too tight to me. I asked my husband if he concurred and he replied something to the effect that they would be fine if she was disco dancing at Studio 54. Okay, so I changed them into a pair of jeans in the next size up. Which I never thought I'd see. I thought she would go to college wearing 12 month pants, my poor short baby. These still seemed a bit snug around the middle. Nobody likes that. But they were bigger-how could that be bad??? I'm mortified. I spent some time tonight putting ALL her 12 month pants away plus anything of any size that looks remotely small. I can't believe I let her go to school like that. This, from a woman who would be very happy living in yoga pants for the rest of her life. I HATE pants that are too tight. Someone should have called child services on me.

She's fresh, to boot. And that's my doing as well. She threw her cereal bowl on the floor this morning. I picked it up, put it in the sink and proceeded to explain to her (in her face) why this was wrong, why food didn't belong on the floor, how she should use her words when she's done, blah, blah, blah Ginger. She looked me dead in the face, cocked her little head and said "Meow." Cause she's cute AND manipulative like that. I managed not to laugh, and "sternly" (or at least that's how it was in my head) said this was not about cats. She replied with "Woof." We are in trouble. Lots and lots of trouble.