Saturday, January 16, 2010


So about two hours after the previous post it was almost bath time aka Sesame discovered how to open her bottles...IN HER CRIB. Needless to say formula was EVERYWHERE and a bath was in order. So. We were happily playing and pho-toing in the batcave:

See. Happiness. In a cool photo-op. Aw. Bliss. Baths are relaxing. Soothing. Until there's a loud crash and a yelping dog. Then you very carefully keep your foot in the batroom (because that will keep the baby from drowning) and peek around the corner to see this:

Alllllllllllllllllllllllllll the 6-12 months clothes that the darling, damp babe in the bath has outgrown spilling down the stairs like a waterfall. Who's to blame??? The leaping, yelping Homer of course... sigh. Chalk it up to Daddy being out of town.

We didn't let our evening spoil though. We promptly held a tickle fest later in the evening:

Nothing can kill that grin. Not even laundry scattering dogs. :)


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