This is the term that Kristin Van Ogtrop the editor of Real Simple magazine refers to as the irrevocable mistake of having one more child than you can possibly handle. Sometimes, in moments of desparation, I think Fynn is one more child than I can personally handle.
He almost brought me to my knees last weekend on Sunday morning when he was sitting in our car waiting for me to take him and his sister to the park. I got into the car and it smelled like a brewery. A bad smelling one. Through inquisition I learned that he had dumped his leftover slurpee directly into his car seat. I threatened everything from running away to join the circus (my favourite threat) or not taking them to the park (the one I should have followed through on), but then I figured why punish all of us. We needed to get outside anyways.
Today he bit my finger while I was giving him his bedtime vitamin.
I think I need a little black on my balance sheet, but I don't regret having the little guy for a minute. My little man.
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