This is one of those days where if you don’t laugh you’ll cry. We’ve got dog poop. Toddler poop. Fussing. Crying. Attempted dogicide by toddler. Licking, peeing, whining. Haven’t even had time to put on a shirt yet.
Just now John pointed at my chest and said “titty,” then at my navel and said “boss.” After that, he held up his milk to the dogs and said “Good morning! Cheers! Potty!”
God, give me patience today.