This morning, McMister stood outside the bathroom door laughing.
I was sitting on the toilet. Lyla was crawling around at my feet crying because she was having a difficult time going to the bathroom herself. Gracie was in the other room trying to put two different socks on while completely naked from the waist down with her oatmeal breakfast stuck to her bum.
In the beginning of Lyla's life, with two under 2 and a mom who was learning as fast as she could, this shit happened all the time. Several times a day both girls would be crying and I'd be somehow otherwise involved, and McMister would walk into the mayhem and look at me like we had all lost our minds.
Clearly, it still happens. See this morning. But this kind of stuff is rare now!