I'd had enough of our greasy, grimy kitchen floor yesterday. I dissolved a couple capfuls of vinegar in warm water, grabbed a dish rag and started scrubbing the floor. Belle grabbed a clean baby wipe, dunked it into the floor wash and started scrubbing the floor and wiping the cabinets. She put her face into the water while it was still fresh and took a sip. Then Belle climbed into the wash pan and dipped her little diapered bum in. I just kept scrubbing, determined to bring some order to the room we use the most.
My dress, a purple bathing suit cover-up with a drawstring at the hem, crept up in my feverish attempt at housekeeping. Belle, feeling confident, threw water on the moon and laughed wildly about it. I about died. Belle's sense of humor is burgeoning. A couple nights ago, she cackled as she imitated the sound of me passing gas. Belle is also in the habit of wrinkling her nose whenever I yell "poop" and "shit."