I'll admit it. I've been busy lately. Between all of the packing and unpacking and packing again, I haven't really been on top of the chores around the house. And while I don't feel that all of the chores around the house should be my responsibility, I am usually the person who makes sure it all gets done. Which might make me slightly at fault for what I am about to tell you. Maybe. But not really.
You see, last night I remembered that I had used the last of the girls' 27 (that's right, we have 27) sippy cups when I gave them milk at dinner. And I meant to wash some before I went to bed. But I went out and never got around to it. No biggie, right?
So, when I woke up this morning and saw that Doodle was drinking a cup of milk, in a cup that I remembered putting in the dishwasher, I didn't think much of it. Instead, I simply asked J if he had run the dishwasher last night. Because obviously he did. Right? ... Right?
No, J just figured that since the sink was full of dirty dishes and the dishwasher didn't smell when he opened it, that everything in it must be clean. Except it wasn't. It was so far from it. And now, Doodle had just polished off eight ounces of milk from a very dirty cup.
Seriously, J? How do you miss something like that?
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