Precious moment. Uh, yeah.

Chase got in in his little head this morning that he was not going to be a little boy, but a mini-mule. For some reason, after talking about Gymboree for the past two days, when told we needed to get dressed, teeth brushed, hair combed this morning, he announced, "I not going." Um, beg pardon? Not sure what pistons misfired in that little brain that when given a direct order to do something, it became a choice by the time it went from ear to cerebellum. Yeah, kid, get that fanny upstairs and let's get 'er done. Hunter was looking forward to today, and announced to Chase, "Oh well. Guess we will just take you and you can cook in the car. We are not staying here because you are being a Demon Baby." Sometimes that kid just knows the right thing to say. This was not one of those times, though. Immediately, Chase sat on said fanny, "I said...I not going."

Riiiiight.

So, after wrangling him into clothes, giving the teeth a quick brusheroo (no mean feat, considering that he had those jaws clamped tighter than a tick) and pinned into his carseat, we were on our way. Such the carrying on... So, I said, "Mommy is going to turn up the radio and jam out to some 80's tunes, kiddos." I needed to get to a happy place. I bust on the XM, and what comes blaring out? "Sweet Child O' Mine". Isn't it ironic....dontcha think?

But, ilovemykidsilovemykidsilovemykidsilovemykids.............

By the way, donkey-boy was the last to leave Gymboree today.