I finally have a job description for what I do. I tried to help Noah get dressed. "MINE!", he shouted as he clutched his Thomas underwear. Right, 'cause I wanted to wear it today.... So I left him to duke it out with the tighty whities while I changed Catie-the-Unchangeable. As I wedged a foot under each armpit to keep her from flopping over while I tried to change her diaper from under my own knees, Noah started demanding help with the underwear. I can see why. To be fair, it was winning.... I told him, "You had your chance to have Mommy help a minute ago. Now Mommy's taking care of Catie. Of course when I finish with her, I'll help you. It's what I do." Then, in the form of prattling all moms use to drive home points and develop young children's minds, I asked, "What does Mommy do all day, every day?"
Noah bit his lip, a sure sign of deep thought. Or pooping. Fortunately, it was the former. "Mommy he'p Cay-cay. Mommy he'p No-o too. 'Hank, Mom!" Well, it just don't get better than that, does it? And true to form, and my new job description, I did in fact help him get his underwear on. And he even let me he'p, this time.
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