moosh in indy.

the moosh just had a bath due to the fact that she has smeared syrup all over her face and after her bath we usually give her a few minutes of birthday suit glory before Huggie-ing her bum. Cody and I were reading an email while the moosh was running around enjoying the breeze when she came in holding a big tootsie roll and looking painfully confused. She seemed rather offended when her daddy and her mommy went running in different directions shrieking with terror (okay a bit of an overreaction on our part but C’MON!) the moosh didn’t know what to do so she just threw the toots on the floor in my direction and took off after her dad who I could only assume was running somewhere far away to die. I set off to find if there were more moosh nuggets (don’t worry, it all came out in one log) and her daddy scooped it up with half a roll of toilet paper wrapped around his hand with fifteen inches on each side. I’m not sure what he did with it but the moosh’s hands were promptly scrubbed seventeen million times and a Huggie was promptly put in place to avoid this akward situation ever again. Grandma was just thankful she didn’t hide it, me too, ’cause that’s what her dad did a couple dozen years ago. Oh yeah, her dad and I totally call dibs on telling her this story when she’s sixteen, and seventeen, and eighteen, and on her wedding day, and to her kids one day, and basically to everyone we know, and some people we’ve never even met before.