Today was a day where I really wish it was more socially acceptable to have a bottle of wine for breakfast.
My house looks like it was ransacked by a pack of rabid raccoons. I look like I lost a food fight, which actually I did. Wyatt apparently finds anything and everything I put in front of him disgusting. He doesn’t even give me the dignity of spitting it out, he just opens his mouth and lazily lets it fall limply off his tongue. Any offending food left on the tray is swiftly tossed off windshield-wiper style. How dare I give him butternut squash that he loved two days ago! Oatmeal? SICK! Clearly I’m trying to poison him. The dog, I have found, is similarly picky, and hasn’t been the time saving Hoover I had hoped. On the flip side, the dog doesn’t like her new food, but Little B loves the dog food, and despite a day long (emphasis on long) effort to keep him out of the dog food, I’m pretty sure he ate more of that than anything I fed him. Maybe I should just start with that tomorrow.
11 month old: 1