Dirty Dog

As I am in the middle of ironing and packing frantically so that we can leave (and I'm sure by writing this blog entry that we will be late) MFS comes up help dress the kids. But first he says "Sweetie...smell Cazin's hair." I know that never bodes well. And it peeves me that he doesn't go ahead and just say what his hair smells like. So I sniff the top of his head. He smells like a boy. Mom's with boys, you know what I'm talking about. The smell is a mixture of sun, dirty dog and whatever they just ate (in this case syrup from the waffles). It is all boy.

"No, smell on the side, by his eye." I smell. The same.

"No, the other eye." And I smell it. And feel the coarseness. I think someone has put his little hands into his diaper and rubbed his hair. And at that moment those little hands were in his mouth. It's a "Hello God, its me Margaret" moment.

Okay, back to packing and then onto WV and piggin' out on Filipino food and watching fireworks. Have a great Independence Day!