Picture my two 3 year olds jumping over furniture, sitting on the tip-top of the back of the couch, flinging random toys across our basement and jumping from one stationary object to another.
Picture me saying over and over and over and over again,
"Please do not do that. It's not safe!"
"Please stop Ashlee, you're going to hurt yourself."
"Lucas, when you fall off of there and crack your head open, I'm not going to be sorry for you because I told you to get down several times already."
Finally, picture the above mentioned 3 year olds, looking at me ever-so-seriously, and replying, "But Mom! Dats what gurilldas do!"
Glad I'm raising up gorillas, not children. That explains all the poop I blog about.
Picture me saying over and over and over and over again,
"Please do not do that. It's not safe!"
"Please stop Ashlee, you're going to hurt yourself."
"Lucas, when you fall off of there and crack your head open, I'm not going to be sorry for you because I told you to get down several times already."
Finally, picture the above mentioned 3 year olds, looking at me ever-so-seriously, and replying, "But Mom! Dats what gurilldas do!"
Glad I'm raising up gorillas, not children. That explains all the poop I blog about.