Kitchen Floor Talk

On the way to our music class play date today, a bird shat on my head.

If poo on your person is lucky, then call me lady luck because I just happened to roll Little E’s stroller right through a pile of dog poop immediately afterwards.

I bought a lotto ticket – 43 mill, we’ll see…

Daddy C and I had a discussion about public speaking tonight. We now have all of our meaningful adult discussions on our kitchen floor since Little E’s bedroom is right beside the living/dining room. Daddy C is taking a course and his instructor announced that if you were one of those people deathly afraid (not just throw up in your mouth a little, but loose your voice pass out kind of scared) of public speaking then you would never get over it.

I beg to differ.

If we enroll Little E into activities where she has to present (music, dance, toastmasters ;) and force her to speak to the waiter/ress directly, instead of through me, then I believe she will get some good practice and be well on her way to press conferences by age 4.

Daddy C just came in from taking Jake for his pre bed pee and told me he stepped in dog poo. Consider me wealthy.