After Sam ate and made a complete mess, I was still trying to get the taco stuff ready so we could put him to bed and eat before Alex was standing in front of an open refrigerator door claiming he was on the brink of starvation. The only available ammo in my fight to entertain Sam long enough to get the chopping done without him wedging himself between my legs and the cabinets and screaming until I pick him up? The newspaper flyer insert thingy. Guess who thinks it's really funny to shred those things? Guess who didn't care that he shredded them so that she didn't have to try to cut tomatoes one handed?
(Please excuse the blurriness of this picture. The super needy clingy weirdo dog kept knocking me over as I was squatting down to take this and I finally gave up trying and just kept this one. Just don't zoom in on it or anything silly like that.)
Travis came in from mowing the lawn moments after Sam scooted into the living room, leaving this diaster in his wake. Upon laying eyes on this mess, he asked if the dog was still alive as he assumed she did it and I was calling on every good memory of her in an attmept to stave off the stabby feelings. Alas, I assured him that no, the dog didn't do this. It was the youngest of the terrors sapping every ounce of patience and energy from my body. Who wants tacos??!!?
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