One Bad Hour

Do you ever have one of those hours?

You know...the kind where you wonder why you had kids?

Because your 2 year old thinks that just because she says "Plleeeaaase!", she can run with scissors and stab her eye out?

And when she takes a nap, while she no longer takes her diaper off and pees all over her bed, she now takes the lid off her sippy cup of milk. And then spills it all over her pajamas (which she also took off), her blankets, her pillow, her sheet, the floor, and the wireless router which is plugged in underneath her bed.

And then you watch her climb up onto the bar-height chairs, crawl like a monkey over the countertop to get to the cookies that your dear husband left on the counter. Which apparently are now in her reach.

And when your husband walks in the house at 9:30 at night (No...he was not late because of the SNOWPOCALYPSE 2011!) she is all angelic and you just want to go hide under the bed. With the cat.

And that was just an hour.