More differences from my kids. Last night, Hadyn came toddling into the kitchen with not one, but two baby dolls in her arms and with the "babies" milk bottle in hand. I snapped a picture of her and she looked like the tired, worn out little mother with two small kiddos to care for. Yeah, sister, we all feel your pain. She sat down on the floor and started trying to give the babies their bottle. But once she saw her own milk bottle, all bets were off for the "babies". They were casually tossed aside for a more important purpose. So, I picked up the babies and the plastic bottle and set them down in the living room. Then Missy Bit's attention went back to the babies. She strapped on a purse that was close by, picked up one baby, the plastic baby bottle, was working on trying to pick up the other baby all the while with Hadyn's own bottle gripped tightly in her mouth.
Yeah, I recognize this move. I load up like a pack mule to get out of the house or the car and can do it, too! Scott, on the other hand will get out of the car and hand everything to me and tell me he'll get Hadyn out if I can carry all of this for him. Sweetheart, I, and nearly every other woman on the face of this planet, can not only carry all of "this" but we can get the baby out of the car, and fumble to find the right key and open the door all without dropping a thing.
But I see where it starts. I will ask Hunter to pick up his toys scattered through the living room and he will pick up one thing at a time and complain about how much he has to pick up.
It's a good thing God made us women so different or we might not ever get anything done around here.
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