I feel like a baby bartender. Well maybe baby waiter is more accurate, but I like alliteration. I find myself filling "orders" from the kids all day like, "more joice, Daddy" and "milk, please." And I've uncontiously begun responding with, "you bet" and "coming right up" and even "what can I getcha?" In fact, I was just informed by Josiah that his waffle is too cold. He wants it hot...and with syrup.
Josiah is really funny; he refuses to eat or drink from anything with a speck of dirt on it. Sounds good, right? Well try to rinse out a sippy cup and re-use it...he calls you on it! I had to clean off his cup yesterday four times (no joke) because he kept on finding specs of peanut butter or oatmeal on the outside of the cup...that he put there at breakfast! Sure, I should give him a new, freshly washed cup every time he's thirsty. Do you know how many dishes three kids generate? And then they leave them all over the house with milk curdling in them. That's always a good time right there.