Tonight, you went to your first football game of the year. And, oh boy... were you in heaven! Since it was Game Day, Daddy dressed you in your Wildcat Girl shirt when you woke up this morning. By noon, it was de-waitforit-stroyed. And, Mommy decided that you certainly couldn't go to the tailgate looking like you were the loser in a food fight with the Hamburgler. So, we got you dressed in your second outfit of the day and headed out.
Big mistake for Mommy to go with the white shirt. With all of that food, it didn't take long for you to leave your mark... all over the front of your shirt. Strawberries? Applesauce? BBQ sauce? Brownies? Check, check, check and check. Using the carrots as a transportation device to eat Ranch? Check. Double-dipping? Check. Touching all of the watermelon before finally choosing a piece? Check. Grabbing multiple brownies and then crying when Mommy told you you could only have one? Check and check. Taking a bribe in the form of a cookie? Check. Chewing the chicken and then spitting it out in Mommy's hand because you had sucked all the bbq sauce off of it? Check.
In the good news department, none of my colleagues appeared to judge me for allowing you to eat a chip off of the asphalt. In fact, there was applause all around when you managed to pick up said chip underneath the table and not to hit your head when you stood back up. That's my girl... spatially aware.
I had to take your sissy home before the game started, so you and Daddy had a date to the game. Apparently, you're a big football fan. Whenever the crowd started to cheer, you'd start to clap and yell: "Running! Running! Running!". You also scored yourself a big foam paw. Which you looked at in wonder while saying: "Rawr! Rawr! Rawr!"
When you got home tonight, you were eager to show me the paw. And you were an absolute angel. You let me change your diaper and put you to bed without so much as a wimper.
So... I guess the secret for your bedtime routines is junk food and football games? Sure. That'll be easy to replicate every night.
Love,
Mama
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