So this morning C had on a clean white shirt, and before I knew it, there was a brown smudge across her tummy.
I took a look and immediately knew she had wiped her chocolate milk-stained mouth on her shirt. I was very annoyed.
We’ve talked about this many times so I said sternly, “C, did you wipe your lips on your shirt again?”
She looked at me very seriously for a minute, put a finger to her teeth and said slowly and seriously, “No, just deese teef.”
You can’t make this stuff up . . .