Today I was still trying to wake up at 1:00. I got up at 8. At about 1:30, I had an epiphany... "I'd wake up if I went for a run"
Except I was on my own with the kidlets. So I got my duds on and snuck downstairs for 3 easy miles. Set the treadmill for 5.6 mph and ended up with something like a 10:43 pace. I even watched the last like 35 minutes of the 2012 marathon trials in Houston. I was channeling my inner Olympian haha
I was undisturbed for 31 minutes. I came upstairs and the house was quiet. My first thought was those little sh*ts went outside to play. Hollered for Max and he said they were upstairs playing garbage truck. Ok... I go upstairs and Max says... "cede ate all your brown candy" "what candy?" (I was playing dumb... Karl had in fact bought a bag of mini pb cups and I had left the bag on the counter) "the candy on the counter. there's only one left"
Cede ate probably half a bag of pb cups. and I wasn't even mad... I was more concerned about her weeks worth of sugar overdose. And I was also a little relived as bad as that sounds because then I wouldn't be tempted to eat the rest of the bag myself.
In case you were wondering... They had a truck that they had filled up with all of the wrappers from the pb cups and were driving around their rooms looking for a spot to dump their garbage. sigh.
my little binge eater accomplished all of this in a span of 30 minutes. And she had help from a certain 4 year old reaching the candy because there was no chair pushed up to the counter and I didn't hear one dragging across the floor overhead.
Who could ever get mad at this face?