Today was Mac's first soccer practice of the season. He only got his head stuck in the net once. So there's that.
Speaking of progress, X-Man is so exhausted from fighting off the potty that he very meekly takes his antibiotics. Yay.....I guess.
Gestated Cinco is doing her best to no longer be my favorite child. She's become mobile. Oddly so. I can't figure out how she moves, but moves she does. It's like the worm meets a tumbleweed meets a fish out of water. The long and the short of it is, she moves. And has moved herself off the "good child list" and onto the "definitely conspiring against me" list.
Baby was told to take off her soccer cleats and socks upon arrival at home. She cried and reminded us how cruel the world is. Because it was mean to tell her that her socks stink. Never mind that she's the one who asked, oh so exasperatedly "WHY?" when told to take off her shoes and socks. I told her that it wasn't my problem that the smell had broken her nose and yes her socks did smell even if she did not smell them. And yes, I know that her nose works. Oh, by the way, in the amount of time you have wasted proclaiming that 1) your socks don't stink 2) even if they did stink it would be mean to say so and 3) your nose works fine, you could have taken of said pungent socks, put them in the hamper and run a 5K, like three times over.
Baba has nothing for me to add to this list. So, by default, she's my favorite tonight.
Mac just informed me that he needs medicine. Apparently he saw a commercial that references frequent trips to the bathroom at night. That's right, my five year old is asking for prostate medication, because he has to use the bathroom at night. Don't ask me, I just feed them.