LW has a cold, and in the time-honored tradition of kids everywhere (or at least my kids) he likes to wipe his nose on my shirt. In fact, if he sees me reaching for a tissue, he will hurriedly wipe the mucus on my shirt before I have time to wipe it off his face.
When I scolded him this morning, "That is not a tissue; that is my shirt," he grinned cheekily at me, patted my shoulder and said, "Tissue shirt."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment