So I'm standing in the kitchen working on dinner when Jack comes in from the playroom.
"Mom, can I have some juice?"
"Sure, honey," I reply, and turn from the stove to help him out.
And that's when I see it -- his eyes are locking on to a sippy cup on the counter next to the sink. "No, Jack, don't!"
But it's too late. For the third time this week, he has seized a sippy of rancid milk and taken a nice, big swig.
Why does he keep doing this???? And now he's standing there, spitting furiously with the most hilarious, disgusted, angry-at-the-sippy-betrayal face on as chunky milk spit cascades down his front.
"Jack!" I squeak, trying my very best not to laugh, "WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THAT????"
(spit, spit, cough, dribble, spit) "I DON'T KNOW!!!!"