Saturday morning I had coffee with a friend and when I came home Pat and the kids were watching a soccer game. It was 10:30 am and Pat was still in his pj’s. Thankfully the kids had had diaper changes and were dressed.
When I walked in the door Caleb was standing at the window by the front door, his face smashed against the window, and crying uncontrollably. I look at Pat, who’s sitting in the chair as if it’s normal for our son to cry uncontrollably with his face smashed against the window (ok, maybe it is) and he said, “He’s tired.”
Before I could get my coat off Angel informed me that she was going to comb my hair. This is one of her new favorite activities and I love it. Even when she pulls hard and twists my hair and causes extreme pain, I love it.
After a little cuddling to settle him down, Caleb eventually joined in on the hair brushing fun as Pat watched the soccer game. I said something about soccer and Angel said, “We’re watching soccerball.” Thus began our argument about whether it’s called soccer or soccerball. We eventually came to the conclusion that Angel was right. We have basketball and football and baseball and volleyball. It should be called soccerball. And then of course she said, “No it’s soccer.”
Throughout the soccer(ball) game and hair brushing I attempted to talk to Pat about my coffee date and our plans for the day. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that on our wall, about 4 feet up, there were all these drops on the wall that looked like dried milk.
Me: Pat, look at the wall. There’s milk on the wall.
Pat ignores me and continues to watch soccer(ball).
Me: That is disgusting. Pat turn around and look at that.
Pat turns around and looks at the wall like he cares.
Pat turning back to the tv: WHAT! I’VE BEEN SITTING HERE FOR 90 MINUTES WAITING FOR A GOAL AND THE MINUTE I TURN AROUND TO LOOK AT MILK ON THE WALL THEY SCORE?
Missy (laughing uncontrollably): Welcome to your world baby!