Just as I think my life can’t get anymore circus-like. I walk into the kitchen, and find this on my floor:
And yes, that is what you think it is. Men, you are probably turning your heads sideways and squinting and wondering what in the hell that is. Women, you know. It is a tampon. And don’t freak. It is still sanitary. Unused. Just unwrapped. By my lovely one-and-a-half year old who is a tricky little monster. She is a little magician, daredevil, and monkey all rolled into one. She gets into things (i.e.: tampons!) if you are not watching her EVERY second of EVERY day!) Need a bathroom break? Forget it! Don’t even think about it. Plan it around her nap time.
She doesn’t feel a tremendous amount of pain; or if she does, she doesn’t care about it too much. Let me tell you, she keeps me on my toes!
She’s a climber of the outside of our banister staircase, our couch, the dining room chairs, the ottoman (from which she then jumps onto the couch), the dog, her potty seat, etc. Basically anything low enough for her to climb on top of, and then she either jumps off of, or gets stuck on and then cries until I help get her down.
The best part: everyday is a new adventure! (Gotta look on the bright side, folks!) What the hell am I saying?! Every f’ing thirty seconds is a new escapade with this child. She’s the last kid. My other two never kept me on my toes as much as she does. She is definitely the hardest kid I’ve had to deal with. I’m so glad Hubby got the snip last month. Woo-hoo!
But how can you resist this face?! I can’t help but to love her and all of her devilish, monstrous, devious, crazy ways. I mean, she is her mother’s child…correct?