So I , In-Desperate-Need-of-a-Life-Country-Girl, had an appointment today. An actual set meeting in which people wanted to talk TO ME. I know. Unbelievable.
So I, Fashion-Conscience-Country-Girl, wore the cutest hip out fit with the best shoes and curly hair.
So I, Anal-Retentive-Country-Girl, arrived early to drop off Baby Twerp and be all set...YOU BET.
And as I arrived, reapplied lip gloss, and went around to get Baby Twerp out of his seat, he started crying. And then he SPIT at me. What in the world? Baby Twerp was NOT being himself.
When I asked him what was wrong, he turned his head toward me, reached out his arms, opened his mouth, and pre-chewed food mixed with bodily stomach acid and partially digested food spewed fr6m his sweet angelic lips. Not just once, but in a continual flow of a liquid mush geyser.And there I stood.
Luckily I had a spare set of pants for Baby Twerp and 8,421 baby wipes. He went shirtless. I could not be afforded that luxury. If so, it might have gone a little better.
I could not leave him at such a time as this.
So with me he went. And with me he stayed.
And with me he will always be.