Rites of passage

So today we had the worst trip ever to Super Target. We were tired, cranky, hungry, and the whole world seemed out to get us. I of course bought some M&Ms for the trip home just to make it all better (for me and for Little Omi) and we had to stop at Sonic for ice (for Omi) and a root beer (for me). Omi ate a few M&Ms, and then suddenly got a look of concern on her face and started reaching into her mouth like something hurt in there. Suddenly, a river of chocolate straight out of Willy Wonka came shooting from her mouth, all over her perfect little white shirt (that we discovered in the closet today that had only been worn once all summer) and the car seat. All I could do for about 10 seconds was stare in horror and think, "Well, now my day is complete."

TK-421, Why aren't you at your post?

I've written before about my love of Legos and admitted that there is a large quantity of them in our house, stashed away in a closet so Little Omi can't play with—er, choke on them. Today I noticed these adorable little stormies, which had been a prized acquisition before Little Omi was born, now gathering dust after having been tossed carelessly into a bowl of spare (and mostly foreign) change. Ah, parenthood. It does rearrange one's priorities, doesn't it?