At Least There Was No Poo To Fling

My mom goes hot and cold with buying clothes for Gracie. When she is cold we don't see anything for months. When she is hot we get a box with a $20 shipping sticker on it. Maybe she is just warm to it year round and hoards....

The last box we received had a Halloween costume, necklaces, bracelets, toys and lots and lots of pajamas. This pair was the source of Matt's misery last night and my misery this morning.

For Matt, it is the fact that for whatever reason, the 2T version of Carters footies pajamas don't have the little tab that hides the zipper pull. So instead of Gracie quickly and quietly falling asleep, she played with that zipper for 30 minutes.

For me, it was the print. The monkey print. She didn't want to take the damn thing off. On a weekend, not a problem. On a school day, problem.

Me: Honey, you can't wear your monkey jammas to school, they'll be hot and you can't put on your shoes.

G: My monkeeee! My monkeeee! I wear monkeeee! My monkeeee!

Me: Sorry sweetie, but they have to come off. You can wear them again tonight. (shhh, don't tell Matt I said that). Then I forcibly removed them from her body.

G: Noooooooooo! MY MONKEEEEE! I WEAR! I WEAR!!!

(Please note: this conversation is greatly condensed.)

With Matt's help to quell the demonic kicking, I got her dressed. And then bribed her with milk. And pears. And chocolate chips.

Yes, chocolate chips. This game is about survival. A process that normally takes 5 minutes spun into 20 this morning, all because of some damn monkey pajamas.