So this morning when I re-entered the kitchen from grabbing school bags, M had her entire plate up to her face and was licking syrup off of it, her hair bobbing and swaying, now partially coated in Aunt Jemima. I stepped quickly over the dog, grabbed the plate, reminded her for the 40,000th time not to do that even if I'm not looking bc it makes her hair impossible to brush. I grumpily put the plate in the dishwasher, dripping syrup on my pants, my bare foot, and the floor. Rosie was very happy about that. 2 minutes later, when Jay got down the stairs, M went bananas saying, "DAD. DAD. DAD! CAN I TOUCH YOUR HAIR?! IT IS SO COOL, DAD!" 40,000X. She says weird things all of the time, and we spend lots of time saying, "Stop standing on that chair, stop picking up other people's things, stop asking me questions, I have to get ready for work!" Which meant neither of us noticed why she was asking ...... I put my shoe on, felt the damn syrup still on top of my foot, took my shoe off, cleaned off my foot, put my shoe back on, and realized I would be spending this day with syrup now stuck to the top of my shoe, which is now, once again, sticking to my foot. Jay and M walked out the door, and I noticed that Jay had somehow not remembered to actually comb his hair down after he showered and towel dried it, so it was in spikes everywhere all over his head. Squishing it down with his hands did not work, but made him look like a 20 year old skateboarder with gray sideburns. This cracked me up to the degree that even though he began with, "Jesus Christ!", he was also laughing by the time he shut the door. So I have to work with this syrup situation, and my husband looks like he flew through a powerful wind tunnel on his way down our stairs. How's your morning?