Say whaaaaaaaat?

As a mommy, you frequently find yourself saying things you never thought you'd say - either because you hated when your own parents said them... or because they just don't make any sense.
Here is a list of my favorites that have come out of my own mouth:

"Jericho - we don't headbutt our mommy."

"Please don't feed your animal crackers to the cats."

"Because I'm your mommy... and I know everything."

"Who took all of the wipes out of the container one-by-one?"

"Jericho, please stop eating that soap."

"I'm so sorry my son smeared poop on your carpet."

"Buddy - mommy needs you out of the oven, please..."

"Joci, mommy really needs for your to please stop cutting your own hair."

"Jericho - DO NOT BITE THAT CAT AGAIN. I mean it this time."

"Is this your daughter?... I apologize. My son seems to have knocked her down and stolen her juice box."

"Yes, I can talk to my daugher about chasing your son around at recess. ... I understand she made him cry. ... It won't happen again."

"I understand mommy sings a lot in the car, but I assure you, I'm NOT Hannah Montana."

Presenting The Amazing Snack-ini!

Sunday night my husband and I were exhausted from a long weekend (of drinking in the sun... but that's another story). After fighting through the day, we finally laid 2-year-old Jericho down for bed at about 8pm. He was repeatedly out of bed and army-crawling down the hall in an attempt to fend off that evenings sheep counting expedition, but each time we'd return him to his bed and assure him that it was, indeed, sleepy time. After about half an hour of this charade, I heard his bedroom door open and shouted "Jericho - Bed. Now." I then heard his door close again and figured all was good.

Fast-forward to 10 minutes later.

I walked past Jericho's room and his door was wide open, his light was on, and he was nowhere in sight. I immediately went into mommy panic mode and started looking everywhere for him - we're talking places he couldn't even fit. I started looking in the closet and under the bed, then found myself looking under piles of clothes and behind the door. Apparently in my mind when Jericho goes missing he turns into David Copperfield.

So after discovering he was in none of these perfectly-logical-not-crazy-at-all places, I yelled for Joel and told him I couldn't find Jericho. So Joel hauls down the stairs to the first floor (which houses the kitchen and living room). He no more than makes it down there when I hear hysterical laughter. I'm running down the stairs after him, telling him to "put his game face on" and that "no matter what Jericho's doing he's still in trouble" and blah, blah, blah.

Then I see him.

My little man, sitting perfectly at the dinning room table, strapped into his booster seat. On his face is a giant chocolate mustache. In his hands is a bottle of chocolate syrup that is now missing it's lid. In front of him is a Capri Sun juice pouch and a vanilla Snack Pack.

Apparently he was hungry.

Immediately upon seeing his little pint-sized smorgasbord, I also bust into hysterical laughter, leaning all of my weight on my husband because I think I'm going to fall over from laughing so hard. I stop laughing, look up at Joel... and immediately start laughing again. Jericho is just staring at us this whole time in bewilderment, trying to figure out if he's in trouble or if we've just gone crazy. We finally wiped the tears from our eyes and composed ourselves long enough to get Snacky McSnackerson cleaned up and back to bed. I could not be mad at that chocolaty little face.

Hey, after consuming a half of a bottle of chocolate syrup, I'm just glad he went to bed at all that night.