John Dickson woke up around 7:30 and had a big bowl of oatmeal that somehow wound up all over the front of his body and in his hair. Outfit change #1. A little while later, Adam and John Dickson are throwing the football, and Adam goes to kick the ball - somehow his standing foot was on the bottom of his pajamas, and both feet went up in the air, kicking John Dickson in the head on the way up and knocking the two of them flat. John Dickson was fine and it so it was very funny. For me anyway. Around 11:30 John Dickson went down for a nap. He was yelling "be doh be doh be doh" in an unusually loud and spastic way, so I went to check on him. He was laying across the side of his crib railing, long ways, feet crossed. He heard me open the door, turned to look at me, and fell off the side onto the floor. There was no nap. The crib is in the attic. Shortly thereafter, John Dickson came happy squealing and running down the hall with none other than a thumb tack. No clue where he got it. Thankfully no injuries. He then enjoyed a cup of milk in our bedroom until he yanked the top off and his full cup of milk went all over the carpet. Being kicked down by Daddy and falling out of the crib - no tears - spilled milk - crying. John Dickson later had a tantrum because he wanted grapes, but by the time I got them all cut up, he was so crazy in his tantrum that he couldn't remember why he was upset in the first place, and he actually made himself throw up from choking on his own tantrum. Not spit up. Throw up. After being spun "roun and roun" approximately 359840 times and then piling his toys, ball and boat into the swivel chair and making those go "roun and roun" 68923 times, the day is finally winding down.
Whew. We're exhausted.
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