I have a pretty strict, "No food outside the kitchen" rule at my house. It's not that I'm super fastidious... It's actually quite the opposite. I am just honestly not a good enough housekeeper to let food go anywhere else but a table. I can't keep up. Thank goodness we have a dog... Seriously. I do not get people who have small children and no dog. They are invaluable on clean up patrol!
But I digress.
Harry hates this rule. Hates it. Disregards it. Flaunts his complete lack of compliance. Grins at me as he runs from the room with his chubby little fist buried deep in a box of cereal. Next come the bitter tears when I chase him down and wrestle the Cinnamon Oatmeal Squares away. Mean, mean Mommy... The rule does not apply to the backyard, however. (See? I'm so nice.) Outside they don't have to stay at the table.
Oh, the sweet blessed freedom.
huh. toes.
Double fisted even. It
is an exciting day to be alive!
The sweet, tasty crunch of double fisted freedom. And dirt. Because he sets his apples down so he can play for a minute, then comes back to them. It's cool. God made dirt, so dirt don't hurt.
Happy Harry.
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