Tonight after we (finally) got home, Elliott decided to run around in socks, tennis shoes and. . . a diaper. Yep. Hawt. Upon hearing he could have some lime jello, he jumped from the table, promptly tripped over his own feet. He landed on his side with his face mushed against the tile floor. Tears? No. He spoke to himself, "I okay. I okay. I okay."
Not sure what it says about my mothering that I had to turn the other way in order for him not to see my church giggles.