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.

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