Prattle

I have to say that lately I have been feeling distinctly more mama and distinctly  less DIY/Decorating lady. Not to say that my evenings aren’t often dedicated to DIY projects (to be posted soon), but that the conversation I am generally engaged in 10 hours per day goes something like this:

S: Where did the clown go mommy?

Me: He’s back at the store.

S: Where did the clown go mommy?

Me: He’s still at the store.

S: Where did the clown go mommy?

Me: To the moon.

S: No mommy, he’s at the store.

S: Where did the clown go mommy?

Me: Please be quiet I’m trying to feed Charlie and put him down for a nap.

S: Where did the clown go mommy?

Me: Where do you think he went?

S: He’s at the store.

S: Where did the clown go mommy? (pulling at my shirt) Where did the clown go mommy.
Where did the clown go mommy ad infinitum.

If you have a two year old I’m sure you can relate to the extreme excitement I feel when my husband walks in the door at 5 o’clock, when the next door neighbor comes over after school to watch the kids, or when I come in contact with anyone over the age of 12.

*Oye! I’m cooking dinner while I’m writing and I just burnt the perogies. Lesson noted: don’t blog while cooking.*

Here’s to adult conversation and have a good night!

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