The other day we were watching the news and they showed a volcano erupting. I directed Andrew's attention toward it. He asked where that was happening:
Me: Russia, the place the meteor hit
Andrew: why they both happen there?
Me: why do you think they both happened there?
Andrew: God sent a fireball to kill the bad people.
I resolve that we either have to read more New Testament or tone down old James Bond movies, or combination of both.
We are in the process of weening my daughter off the pacifier. And by we I mean me and by my daughter, I also mean me. It's so easy to just stick it into her mouth. Do you know what it does, it PACIFIES her.
In my mind I think if she is in a bed (not crib) this will help. So wish me luck because tomorrow she's moving out! I bet I'm going to feel great self efficacy when at 3 am and she falls out, bumping her head and wanting nothing but a mass produced rubber plug in between her lips. I will say, Amy, good on you for tackling two huge developmental issues at once. Why don't you just take her diapers off and toilet train too. And then I will roll eyes at logical 3am Amy and frantically search in the dark for the remaining pacifier and stick it in her mouth (toddlers, not mine), breathe a sigh of relief and recite my mantra, "you are a good mom, you are a good mom" and deal with issues tomorrow.
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