As I try to maneuver my grocery cart through the store with a two-foot tall "helper" determined to push it with me one way or another, someone will catch my eye, laugh, and then, more seriously say, "that's a tough age, isn't it?"
I completely forgot.
It's also an incredibly cute age. Like crazy cute. They're little mini-people, walking short with teddy bear like bodies, clapping for themselves and giving hugs and kisses for cheers.
So I really can't take my eyes off of my little guy for one second because he'll either do the most adorable thing in the entire world or the most dangerous thing.
And then there are the moments when I'm vacuuming bits of egg shell out of the washing machine or explaining to an upholstery cleaner over the phone that the substance in the button-tufting of my sofa is most likely chewed up fruit snacks.
And in those moments, I am thinking, I'd rather be blogging.
So bear with me!