I just thought some of the pictures might sum up my life as the mother of Brighton Johnson.
Trouble. |
I left Brooklyn's spagetti o's on the counter while I helped her find her purple princess shoes in her room. (It was of imminent importance. She was stuck only being a "BROOKLYN" until she retrieved her shoes to complete her princess transformation). Left unsupervised for LITERALLY two minutes TOPS, Brighton found his way to the food. This is where I found him. KIND of to my HORROR. You can see the corner of his high chair, which he shoves around like a carpenter's scaffolding. He mounted the death trap and plopped himself on the edge of the counter to eat some grub. The fact that I haven't had a nervous breakdown is miraculous to me. ![]()
And when I startled him by yelling, "BRIGHTON! What are you DOING?" This is the pic I took. All he said was, "HUH?" (I guess I should be glad he didn't jump and fall off. I didn't think that one through).
I picked him up, put him IN the highchair and let him finish Brooklyn's spaghetti o's. THEN it was, as you can see, BATH time.
Does anyone else have to BATHE their kid EVERYTIME they EAT?
omg, i miss that cute little face! i'm so glad i'm not going through this all along. i walked into my mother's kitchen the other day and marx was standing on top of her table dancing...BOYS!
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