The Baby is now walking unassisted. This is the time of her life that I wish she would wear a helmet with a face guard, knee and elbow pads, and that my house was completely carpeted.
She already has a bruise on her forehead and one on her chin.
Good going Grandma!
She's having a great time walking up and down the hallway, chasing the damned dog and cats. She has figured out how to work the swing gate into the laundry room where we keep the kitty litter and food away from the damned dog.
GREAT.
That's been tied closed now, and the poor Man forgets and practically rips the gate off the hinges. I'm not much better, but I've only managed to break 2 fingernails.
By the time The Punk shows up at night, The Man and I are exhausted and wonder how one little baby could possibly cause 2 of us to barely make it to bed after the door is closed. We're old.
The Baby's 1 year birthday party is Friday... I think I'm going to buy her a straight jacket and muzzle! THEN I can nap again!
2 comments:
This is what you get for thinking that having ONE child was a big trauma.
HA!
AAAAWW but she's so cute!
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