Andrew says, "I saw a pretty girl in my room."
Dave asks, "In your room? Was it Mommy?"
And Andrew looks at me and says, "No. Mommy's not pretty girl . . .
. . . She's a PRINCESS!"
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Why Medicine Shouldn't Be Flavored
It's only on rare occasions that Andrew sits still on the couch for more than 20 minutes (coincidentally, the length of a Dora The Explorer episode). But, after reclining on the couch for over an hour, Andrew just announced, "I'm sick."
Having suffered through an unusually whiny morning, Dave and I became alarmed and began barraging him with questions.
"What do you mean, Andrew?"-"Do you feel crummy?"-"Does your tummy hurt?"-"HOW are you sick?!"
In his most enfeebled voice, he said, "I need some Tyyyy-enol."
Having suffered through an unusually whiny morning, Dave and I became alarmed and began barraging him with questions.
"What do you mean, Andrew?"-"Do you feel crummy?"-"Does your tummy hurt?"-"HOW are you sick?!"
In his most enfeebled voice, he said, "I need some Tyyyy-enol."
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