Pretty Baby Stink Pot

Look at this girl. Isn't she precious?




And lovely.



And Happy.


And a total stinker.


On Sunday, with everyone else gone camping, Nora and I got on our Sunday best and drove to church.

She was splendid in her little white dress that Grandma Allen bought her, with pig tails and dainty white shoes.

We made it inside, found a pew, and right on cue, she started screaming.

Screaming in some incoherent baby language that no one has been smart enough to translate yet.

Try as I might, I couldn't figure out what the child wanted. So we got up and went out into the foyer, where she proceeded to alternate between crying and running away from me.

So I left. Yes I did.

I attended church for all of 10 minutes. And in that time I gained a new appreciation for 1. Jeff and his willingness to switch off with me when kids are fussy. And 2. Single mothers. I had a 10 minute taste of what that must be like. And I didn't like it one bit, let me tell you.

Sometimes it's easy for me to think that having six kids means I know everything.

Well I don't. I don't know what Nora wants sometimes when she cries and throws fits. I don't know what to do when she won't stop and I'm tired. And I don't know what to do when she is naughty and then looks at me and says "sowwy".

Oh wait, that one I know. I melt into a little puddle and let her wrap her little arms around my neck and we snuggle. And I say" That's ok baby, I love you." And she says back "I ul you"

And all is right in the world once again.