B and I babysat the Torgs (well, the three Torg children. Ma and Pa went to a concert. They do not need to be babysat). We had a great time with the world’s most delightful children, but realized that we do not have our parenting instincts honed quite yet.
Case in point: we had spaghetti for dinner, and it wasn’t until Edmund was liberally covered in sauce and on his second plate of spaghetti that Mary looked down at her spattered shirt and said, “Oh no! I’m not wearing a bib!”
Very true. B and I looked around the table. Edmund looked like he was dressing as spaghetti for Halloween, Mary had a good coating on face, hands and parts of shirt, and Lucy had some in her hair. Hmmm.
“Where are the bibs?”
I see. Could you give us a clue? Even though it is clearly too late?