|Brushing my teeth as Little Man snaps a picture.|
Other times, kidlets may make a mess and try to hide the evidence. Last week I printed a schedule onto what I thought was clean white paper:
Notice how the words printed onto the stickers? Which came first: the printing or the eggs?
And then there are days when mommy goes shopping solo -- when The Preacher keeps both kids so mommy can live a carseat- and sippy-cup-free afternoon.
Mommy returns home, two shopping bags heavier (and $20 lighter), to find another surprise. . .
(Yes, worry warts -- that's chocolate pudding. What else would it be? Sheesh.)
Someone asked me recently whether I thought a person could ever be ready for parenthood. After all, how could you possibly prepare for this stuff? My response was that you can, and should, spend time preparing:
and your mental health. (Among other things.)
But the truth is. . .
You'll never, ever be ready for kids.
That's half the fun of it.
Learning to like surprises,