My Little Neat Freak
Just about every morning Little Girl eats cereal with her Papa. She sits on his lap. They share a bowl, but each have their own spoon. That is her morning routine, and if for some reason we have to stray from that routine, you can pretty much assume that it’s not going to be a totally pleasant day. Other than that, she’s usually pretty okay with her routine not being exact, but miss that morning cereal with Daddy and it’s a recipe for a tantrum at some point.
Every morning, pretty much without fail, she gets milk on her shirt. She is only 2, after all, and still mastering the art of scooping liquid into her mouth with a spoon without losing any of it, so it’s to be expected. And never, NOT ONCE, in the time they have been doing this has she EVER cared about the fact that she had milk on her shirt.
Until today. Today she got milk on her shirt. And all hell broke loose. WET! DIRTY! CHANGE SHIRT! Screaming! Tantrumming! (Yes, I made that word up - now hush!) Rending of clothing! (Or at least trying her best to pull it off of her head.) Until she got a clean shirt on. And then all was well.
Mike gave her the dirty shirt and told her to go put it in the laundry. Which she did. “Dirty shirt!”
I used to wonder if she had my genes. But now I know she must, because that is exactly what 2 year old Karin would have done. I just wish she would have given me a little warning before she turned into Felix Unger. :P
Comment by Rochelle
February 26, 2007 @ 9:56 am
HAHAHAHAHA
Comment by Marlene
February 26, 2007 @ 10:19 am
teehee!
Comment by Theresa
February 26, 2007 @ 4:50 pm
BAHAHAHAHA! Maybe it’s just a stage?
Comment by Barbara
February 26, 2007 @ 8:48 pm
You better keep shirts handy at breakfast from now on.