I decided to venture into trepidatious Sunday morning waters: church solo with the girls. The last time I took the girls to church by myself was last year. I foolishly chose seats on the main floor, rather than the balcony with all the other parents with young kids skipping kids church, and I ended up carrying Miss A out before the service was over and superimposing devil horns on her picture.
So naturally I was nervous. Would I make it out alive?
The hubby had about 9.5 million things to do Sunday since he took the holiday off on Saturday and I was antsy to get the girls out of the house because it was sprinkling rain. I ordered them into the tub and 45 minutes later they were shampooed, conditioned, detangled, and decked out in pretty summer dresses. Miss C had entered the cranky “I’m bored there is nothing to do in this house” zone already and was watching TV and Miss A was content at the kitchen table stamping a piece of paper over and over and over with a small Valentine’s heart stamp. I headed for the bathroom to take a shower and get ready, not hesitating one bit to leave Miss A unsupervised with a stamp.
So you probably know where this is going.
I got out of the shower and was combing out my hair when Miss A burst into the room looking down and mumbling something.
“What baby? Mommy’s trying to get ready.”
“Mommy I don’t know how this happened!” she said with exaggerated emphasis, thrusting both her arms out in front of her.
Yes I realize it could be worse. You can’t see her legs in this picture, though.
She held out her arms which she had started to decorate with heart stamps. Then she held out her legs, proudly showing off the stamps decorating her legs.
Then she held out her hands and her left palm was covered with blue ink. Because I guess she decided the heart stamps weren’t enough body art.
I’m thinking she’s got a future as a tattoo artist. And at least the stamps didn’t clash with her pink dress.