I “base-ing”, Mom.

I thought I’d squeeze in a quick phone call after dinner on Thursday night…when Keith wasn’t home. Uh, what was I thinking?!

Alex was in a MOOD, and I knew he’d scream if I stopped him. I didn’t really want to do that in the middle of a somewhat-important phone call, so I stood nearby and let it happen.

While I talked, Alex used the leftovers from dinner and a bowl of soapy water to concoct some sort of marvelous recipe which he then fed to the front of his shirt.

Then he proceeded to use the spatula like a baseball bat, flinging a wet brownie batter/ barbecue sauce/ mashed potato/ soap bubble concoction all around the kitchen. There are splatters on my refrigerator to prove this. He had a big grin on his face, and he said, “I base-ing, Mom!”. (“Base-ing” is Alex-speak for playing baseball.)

Notice the tails of his onesie hanging out of his shirt? I didn’t. And I wondered why everyone was doing a double-take and grinning at him in the grocery store before dinner. Now I know…

If you’d had any random thoughts of giving me the Mother of the Year award, take it back. ;)