Mitchell is still asleep, I’m completely done with school work, and I’m BORED. I should probably slow down on my new book series, since I’m averaging one book every day and a half, the yard is already mowed, the floors vacuumed and mopped, the clothes washed and put away…what’s a girl to do? I was looking around for things to do when I noticed that, in the ten minutes between when I picked up the living room and put Mitchell down for a nap, he managed to sneak six balls under the couch. Six. I know he might disagree with me, but I’m starting to think there’s a limit to how many balls should be in a house.
He also disagreed with giving up the Cheetos today at lunch, until I sat a bowl of noodles in front of him. Then when he saw me eating the same noodles, he asked for more. From my bowl. I’m assuming he knows there are a finite amount of noodles, and if he doesn’t eat them, I eat them. When I told him he couldn’t have any more until he finished what he had, he stuck all the noodles he could fit into his mouth, then asked for more. After a couple times doing this, he just started dumping the noodles out of the bowl onto his tray, handing me the empty bowl, and asking for more. Like I wouldn’t know where the other noodles went. He had no problem eating them off the tray, though, he just didn’t want any pauses in eating for me to blow off more noodles. He might be a bit possessive of noodles.