Last night Charlotte and I were sitting on the floor in the living room watching Toy Story (Toy Story seems to be on a heavier rotation now than Moana, and for that I am grateful). I spread out a blanket and brought her cucumbers and dip into the living room and said we could have a picnic. I was watching the movie, because even though I’ve seen it a million times, I love Toy Story, and I noticed that my shirt kept shifting. So I looked down, and I noticed that every time Charlotte took a bite of her cucumbers and dip, she would take my shirt and wipe her mouth with it. And I’m so deep in the trenches of this motherhood thing that I just continued to let her do it. I am a human napkin. But if she was eating, I wasn’t saying a damn word to interrupt that.
The shirt wasn’t that nice anyway.