Monday, March 12, 2007
Who's your daddy?
And the poor Monkey got all tangled up in the melee. The poor thing is so small, and she only can see up to someone's leg. She has to look all the way back to see if she is even talking to the right person.
We were getting our coats on, and she turned to Matt, Robin's husband and started to take something from his hand because she thought it was Ace. She then heard me say "that isn't Daddy, honey" and she looked up and saw that, indeed, this was a different person. So she turned to the next substitute, Robin's brother. She also discovered this person was not her father, either.
She finally hit pay dirt when she started to cry and call out "where's my Daddy?!?"
Poor little mite. In her defense, all three of them are about the same height, same build, and same hair coloring. And about the same amount of hair, too.
She was SALTY on the way home, too. Man ... you should have seen her face.
But then, if I didn't know who my Daddy was, I would be mad, too.
I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.
Really, who ARE laws written for?