
Do I really need to explain anything?
Jayden's school starts every year with a "get to know you" lemonade party.
Today we went for some refreshing lemonade on a hot morning walk to school.
Only, it wasn't lemonade. It was apple juice. (Which only makes a difference because Jayden was so excited for lemonade since he "hasn't had a refreshing glass of lemonade in a long time."
And the room was so packed that I could hardly move around with a stroller, baby in my arms, and a Jackson on the prowl for new toys to mess up--or worse, more juice and cookies to steal.
Surprisingly this year, Jackson busily played with the puzzles instead of tearing around the classroom like the year passed. Deciding to leave while we were in good standing, I got them their juice and said they could each take a cookie for the walk home.
I thought a cookie was safe enough to eat without making a huge mess.
I obviously thought wrong. Very wrong.
We we on our way back home, walking ever so pleasantly when out of nowhere, the Fudge-E-O jumped out of Jackson's hands and smacked his face.
How dare this little boy try to eat a chocolate cookie! This tough little cookie wouldn't stand for it.
And smacking his little face was only the beginning. The cookie began assulting Jackson in the stomach.
Well, if anyone knows Jackson, he doesn't take things sitting. He threw a few punches, but that cookie must have studied karate because he turned around and drop-kicked Jackson from behind.
Fortunately, all the wrestling that Jackson does with Jayden paid off. He flipped the cookie over on the ground, bit his head off and then polished him off . . . Wiping his sleeve on his mouth.
Okay, so maybe that isn't exactly what happened. It could have though, since I never did see anything.
How it got on the back of his shirt, I will never know. This boy has some serious talent. I'm not sure what it will be useful for . . . maybe he could the be test cases for new stain removal products?
Sigh.

1 comment:
Mel -
I don't know. I think my little Jared could give Jackson some pretty good competition for the messiest eater. I feel like I spend so much of my life spot treating clothes. It gets old doesn't it? My mother doesn't know how she can have such a messy grandson. I'll dido the sigh.
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