Happy birthday to my sweet and spirited Jordis AKA Moochie, Jordy Bordy, Bords . . . You can cuddle like a wrestler and scream like you're being tortured. Your smile can light up the room and your temper tantrums can make a mama (this one) cry. You are smarter than a . . . me. I am so glad God surprised me with you.
And just to keep it real folks, as I write this both girls just came out of bed (30 minutes after we put them to bed) and said they had to go the bathroom. So Jordis is now in there doing business and we've been telling her that when she turns four she will wipe even her poopy booty. So in just moments folks, she will be giving herself a urinary tract infection, I mean wiping herself. Meanwhile she just shouted out from the bathroom:
"Mama! Right now one of my privates are very dirty."
And then: "This is my first, biggest of fat poo."
And a few minutes later . . .
"Mama, I have cat poo?"
Jordis: It's coming out of me.
(face painting courtesy of big sister)
Is this too much information? Why yes. Yes, it is. But if you are a mom of a toddler you have had at least 400 similar conversations, right?