Hey Ma, Look At Me

Even on the stressful days and the gray days and the busy days, I get to laugh at what these two nut jobs come up with the amuse themselves (and me). Why does it seem like a good idea to stuff yourself into a baby sleeping bag when you happen to be a tall-for-your-age almost-three year old with a big 'ol mess of curly madness on top? She didn't want to get out, either. Fine by me. Or why does "dressing yourself" with your sister's jammies entertain you for 45 minutes at a stretch nearly every morning for a week? I do enjoy watching your hard work that you show off by repeatedly trying to pull pants over your head. Heck, I don't care why they do it, I just care that I get to watch it. 

This? Now this did not amuse me. Thankfully, my coffee is 2/3 creamer so it wasn't hot, but I still wasn't the number #1 fan of myself for leaving my cup within lunging distance of the jacktopus. I went upstairs for two seconds (it always happens in two seconds or less), leaving behind a clean baby eating toast. I came back down (remember, in two seconds) to octo-arms jack who used one of his appendages to snag and dump my coffee and the others to eat his toast and smear peanut butter all over his ample cheeks. Not a fan. Dislike. Thumbs down. Boo.