Walking into school this morning, I patted the top of Jackson's head and asked him if he would like to hold my hand.
He considered the offer for a moment and then looked up at me and said:
"No, mama. This isn't a parking lot."
You, me and that baby and that other baby. While I promise to never write about what I ate for lunch or about that dream I had last night, I cannot promise there won't be poop mentioned.