What takes some women five minutes in the back seat of the car or their husband merely sneezing in the same room as them, takes others months of paperwork, charting, fingerprinting, and a documented pain in the ass. Therefore, even though I once proudly proclaimed that I would avoid becoming a lame mommy blog documenting events that only myself, Grami, and possibly an aunt or two cares about, I feel my resolve slipping. I feel that I have earned the right to tell my lame cutsie kid stories, and you have to put up or shut up.
I am completely, entirely, and wholeheartedly sucked in to this kid's world. We spend the days hanging out in the tent playing in pom poms, gathering new art supplies at the Dollar Store, and bouncing a pink dodge ball at the park.
It is a good place to be.