The hard days

Blah.

Some days are incredibly hard.

From what I can tell, you have at least two teeth coming in simultaneously and, as a result, you have periods of extreme grumpiness.  Sometimes when you are teething you start crying before you've even opened your eyes upon waking up.

I know the feeling.

Recently we changed the cat's food, and he has been reliably barfing every single day.  Usually he leaves multiple piles for me to clean up first thing in the morning.  I thought I got them all at 6:15am today, but when you got up you found one that I had missed and crawled right through it.

While I was trying to put my right shoe on to take us for a walk, I pulled your arm out of the toilet; stopped you in the middle of gleefully carrying off the toilet paper through the house while it was still on the roll in the bathroom; and pulled a shard of broken plate from your hand that you had pulled out of the trash and were bringing toward your mouth. 

When I turned on the vacuum in the living room while you played with your toys in the dining room, you were so startled that you screamed and came running to me, simultaneously vomiting and pooping along the way.

While I was sorting the laundry, you decided that the crotch of your father's boxer shorts looked delicious and inviting and shoved them in your mouth.

Today you ran your tongue along nearly every available surface, including the television, the sliding glass door, and the screen door.  This seemed so minor compared to everything else that, honestly, I just watched to make sure you didn't ingest poison.

We had a couple of good moments, though, and one of them was your grin of triumph after learning how to retrieve crackers from your nifty new snack cup: