The Bean was taking her bath tonight and when I went into check on her, I found this:
When I asked her what she was doing, she told me she was a teacher, teaching her class and her husband (that good looking fellow with the blonde hair and the khaki shirt next to the orange blob) math. Thanks to the crappy quality of the picture, you can’t tell that she has written 5+?=9 on the wall.
“What?!” I said. “You’re too young to get married!”
“I am not, I’m a root beer baby so I’m older then I look!”
This took me a second to puzzle what she was saying out.
“Do you mean you’re a Leap Year Baby?”
“Yup, that’s what I said!”
“No, that wasn’t what you said and even if you did get it right, being a Leap Year baby technically makes you younger, not older.”
“Oh, then let’s just not mention this again,” she replies.
My kids make me crazy sometimes. They make me question my sanity and my intelligence and they have been known to push me thisclose to the edge. .But they are two of the funniest monster I know and I wouldn’t trade the privilege of watching them grow for all the money in the world.