You know the kind of math I like? 3 kids + 1 dentist = 0 cavities. I hung out in the waiting room with X-Man, who was irate that he couldn't tag along with his siblings, and Cinco who was hanging out looking cute. But never fear, I could still hear Mac talking away. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but I could hear him. A lot. On and on and on. Apparently, among other things, he kept telling the dentist she didn't need to see in his mouth because he didn't have cavities. As he announced in the waiting room "See mom, I was telling the truth!"
You know what number I hate? 30. As in 30 Jesse Tree ornaments I committed to making. See, I have noticed that motherhood makes me completely scattered and I have no memory. No memory of the fact that I am completely incompetent when it comes to crafts. Not crafty is putting it mildly. I am where crafts come to die. It's not my fault, it's genetic. My grandmother sewed her hand to whatever it was she was sewing. With her machine. So, I'm not sure how it explains Baby, who not only loves crafts but also as more talent than me to infinity.
Another reason to hate 30. It is the number of burpees I have to do the said number of days. Again, I have to wonder why I do this to myself.