The Contest

Apparently, a contest is emerging among the members of the S---- household. Our bodies are currently competing to see who can, pound for pound, create the most fluid.

Pardon the doubly bad pun, but it appears that my sinuses and Charlie's bottom are giving each other a, ahem, run for their money. Dixie's hacking cough has just begun. Although Dowlan and Melody seem unscathed, Melody is competing in a category all her own: tears.

Two nights ago, she threw a 45 minute tantrum over being told to come to the table for dinner. Yesterday it was over Aunt Emily asking her to get out of an infant carseat. Today's drama was twofold: being told that shoes were necessary for going to church and for Mommy's not-so-positive response to being told, "Yes, well I can do whatever I want."

Hm. Dowlan just began barking at me. I guess this is his way of letting me know of his intentions to win? Where did I put that other case of Kleenex--I think I am going to need it.

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