Seriously, everyone needs an almost 3 year old. You know, just for shits and giggles.
Last night, as bedtime was approaching and I was changing B, J told H it was time to change into her jammies. We were all gathered in the living room (J's sister, husband, and son were visiting) as H slyly maneuvered around J, mumbling, "We'll...I think...now..." And as soon as she was out if arms reach she took off in a full sprint laughing, "You can't catch me I'm the gingerbread man!"
Oh my goodness. We all laughed so hard we cried. J indulged her a few circles around the house. Then he playfully scooped her up while she shrieked, "No, fox, no! Don't get me!"
Needless to say, it was a very good way to conclude our Christmas.
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