"SARAH! Leave your sister alone. Why is she crying?"
"I just pinched her cheeks."
"Oh, well, thank you for telling me the truth, but that's not okay."
"But they're just so squishable. Am I in trouble?"
"No, just don't do that again."
"I'll try, but Mom, sometimes I just can't help myself."
I'm feeding my daughter, Emma, peaches and cereal (the real stuff, not baby food). The highchair is still in the car from taking it to Jeff & Felicia's yesterday, so I'm feeding her on my lap or sometimes standing at my side. Our house isn't the cleanest, but it's not a health-hazard either. (Some of you may have a different opinion -keep it to yourself.) Emma bends down to pick up a peach that fell on the floor, and as I'm saying "Icky, icky" she puts it in her mouth. I think to myself "I don't see any hair stuck to it, she didn't mop the floor with it first, so whatever." Sarah comes into the kitchen wearing an awfully tight pair of shorts.
"Mom, my shorts have a bow on the front of them."
"Are you sure those are yours?"
"Yes, they're pink."
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