Humorful parts of my day

Here's how my morning started:

(Well, after I got out of bed and blurrily looked through my half-opened eyes at the 'lovely' face staring me back in the mirror.)

I was going to let Bebe sleep in a bit since we had a work day (which means the teachers party; ahem.... I mean work, while the kids have the day off) and I had to go into work and I felt bad that she (being a teacher's kid) had to go to school (even if it was only for an hour before Auntie came and got her), but she got up before me! (OK - enough rambling)

Well, while I was curling my hair, I hear a crash in the kitchen.

I know that Bebe wants to help me out and she loves to set up my breakfast in the morning, so I figured that a bowl broke.

Since I am a Mother of the Year candidate, I made sure to continue to curl my hair while I waited for her to come report to me what happened. (FYI-Mamu was still in bed, so no danger to him at this time.)

Well, Bebe came in, with tears running down her cheeks... "Mom... I broke your favorite Eeyore glass. I was trying to get it for you and it fell over my shoulder and it broke. I'm sorry. It was an accident."

I reassured her that I loved her and that it was ok and I would go sweep up the glass and could she please go talk to her brother for a moment while I finished curling my hair. Mamu had just woken up (or chosen to let us know that he was awake) and starts yelling "I go POTTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!"

Now, half my hair is curled, I have broken glass to sweep up in the kitchen, a 2 year old to take to the potty and a crying 7 year old.

All before 6:30 am.

Fabulous.

Now, let's fast forward to dinner.

We went to Jason's Deli since you know, it's "Daddy's Deli" (you know, because his name is Jason) and while we're there I ended up holding Mamu. Mamu is a little under the weather and a tad part cranky (read - more than usual) and he was done eating and becoming a smidgent more cantankerous (read-super duper crabby), so I picked him up and was holding him.

[Now, as a disclaimer, I was very fortunate to breastfeed both of my children for over a year.]

At some point, Mamu slides his hand down the front of my shirt.

Inside my shirt.

In the middle of Jason's Deli, where I am already calling attention to myself by standing up, swaying with a 2 year old who is doing his best to make everyone know that he's there.

So now my 2 year old is feeling me up in Jason's Deli and he has begun to pat me.

So I pull his hand out of my shirt and gently tell him that "That cow's been sold." and "Sorry bud, but they're all dried up."

Then, he decides to pat me on the outside of my shirt, saying "Squishy! Squishy! Squishy!"

We called it a night.

"Squishy! Squishy! Squishy!"