Red Whine

The other night I faced one of my most challenging moments in parenting (by that I mean difficult to “keep my cool”). After about six hours of deep-cleaning our house (scrubbing all of Jordan’s dried up crusty food prints off of the couches, cabinets, tables, walls, and floor), I was exhausted. We went on our evening walk with the kids anyway, and it was wonderful to come home to a good smelling, clean house! It hasn’t been so clean since Emma was born. So we ate outside to keep the dinner mess to a minimum and enjoy the nice weather. After dinner, we indulged and had a little tiramisu and wine on the couch while the 49ers lost. And Jordan had a little tiramisu and wine on the couch as well. What I mean by that is that he shoved his hand in my tiramisu and grabbed a handful, then smeared it all over the freshly cleaned couch. Then he grabbed my glass of wine and poured half of it out on the freshly cleaned coffee table and the freshly cleaned floor. When I yelled “No!!!!” my sweet little angel proceeded to pick up the now half-full glass of wine and throw it at me. Overhand. It looked like a scene from a Quentin Tarantino movie.