Don't you hate it when you walk through your kitchen to go out to the car to get something, search the car, and then walk back in and find it right on the counter in your kitchen?
Oh. Just me. Moving on then...
My baby is three, people.
Do you hear me? My BABY!! The last child I will have ever brought into this world!! The final offspring!! He's THREE YEARS OLD!!!!! This is just craziness, it's almost too much to bear. Here he is blowing out THREE candles on his chosen Red Sox cake. And don't even talk to me about the cake, when I saw that helium balloon I knew it was just genius since a layer cake would mean more frosting which is all he ever eats anyway, and I will never regret cheating on his cake. No matter how you look down at me. So there.
You'll be happy to know that according to Zachary, 3 is old enough to now play baseball. He told us that the night before his birthday. Right after Daddy and I picked out a baseball and a bat for his gift.
Score one for the parents!
The good news? He's FINALLY potty-trained.
The bad news? We flea-bombed our house the other day and while waiting for it to air out an hour after opening it up the kids went swimming in the afore-mentioned pool and the little man needed to pee so I took him aside to the bushes so as to avoid putting "p" in the ool and breathing in toxic fumes and now he has decided he can just whip it out anywhere.in.the.yard at his leisure.
IN OTHER NEWS:
The new chairs are in. Aren't they pretty?
And they don't come apart or wiggle when you sit in them.
Don't you think they look like they came with the table? Yeah, me too. And no, I didn't stage the DP for the photo, it was really just there. Where it belongs!
Now, here at the Jones household, we do not condone violence. Which is why I really have no explanation for this:
"No son, like this..."
"Much better. Now keep at it!"