I have a feeling that this type of post will become a regular feature. So it’s Sunday afternoon, and my husband’s grilling of dinner is taking a little longer than anticipated. I feed Angel Face a snack and believe that I’ve quelled the beast of toddler hunger momentarily. I retreat to the living room to start tidying up the explosion of toys while Hubby is rinsing some utensils in the sink.
Angel Face comes toddling into the living room, obviously chomping on something with great delight. I demand to know what she is eating, looking at Hubby accusatorily. He denies giving her anything to eat. So I pry open her mouth … and feel total HORROR. I am so appalled, I can’t even clean out her mouth, and she happily finishes chewing and swallowing with a huge grin. When I start to cry, Hubby asks what is wrong. She’s eating DOG FOOD I tell him. DOG FOOD! He tells me to relax, it’s not like we actually have to feed her dog food.
Three days later, I still can’t think of it without cringing. Child Protective Services can’t be far from my doorstep. She’s got skinned knees because I put her in shorts when she can’t walk steadily yet, she wakes up three out of seven days soaked in her own urine and she eats dog food.
I swear, I’m a good mom. I swear.