Firecrotch

I burned my son's crotch this week. I know, how Mary Poppins does that sound? Last night Bjorn had a networking event in the evening so I was on my own. To mix things up, I promised Andy that after his bath and after Baby Meg went to bed, we could eat pizza and watch a movie. While they were in the bath, I had the pizza cooking in the oven so once they were done and she was in bed, the pizza was ready and our "fun" night could begin. Andy was still naked from his bath, but he was hungry so I let him come sit at the table without putting on any clothes. That's only relevant because when he bit into the pizza, the cheese was too hot so he spit it out and dropped the piece, onto his upper thigh. It was way hotter still than I had any idea and really left a mark and a little blister. Fortunately, his boy parts were unharmed in the incident. My psyche is a little scarred though.

Meg is much better, thanks for asking. She's back to being a smiley, happy kid. Unfortunately, she seems to have developed some separation anxiety during the week long illness and screeches if I leave the room. That, combined with Andy peeing on my bed during a brief nap, have made today a very long day.