You send your husband text messages about a hand being pooped out. I may have just sent that one to Dave since Finley decided yesterday morning to eat a toy's plastic hand.
You discuss at length when he went to the bathroom and what number he did. Seriously, was it firm poop or squishy? I walked him for a while but he never went. Can't wait for this stage to be over.
You never go to the bathroom alone. Poor Finley has learned to sit really well now because it could get weird if he started jumping on me while I'm in the restroom. And I don't trust him enough yet to leave him out while I go. I watch you, you watch me.
You talk baby talk. It's just what I do when things are a.d.o.r.a.b.l.e. How else will he know I love him if I don't say it in a sing songy voice?
I swear I have a real post coming soon, things have been just a little crazy with moving mom and dad into their house in Florida, rooming with them, and our house stuff. I promise to try and find time to sit down soon to write!