“Layla, what is that on your chin?” I heard my mom ask Layla.
The baby gave some sort of reply I couldn’t hear.
“Is that food?” I heard my mom ask.
Unintelligable answer given by the baby. I decided to let it go.
Some time later, it was time for bed and I see the red mark on Layla’s chin. What in the world?
“Baby, what happened to your chin?”
“’Member I told you I fell off the sofa and hurt myself,” she answered.
Are you kidding me!?! “No, I don’t remember you telling me this. When did this happen?” Crap, why am I asking this? She seemingly only knows one day of the week.
“On Saturday.”
And yep, that’s the day she knows.
“Were you jumping on the sofa?” Why do I bother asking questions I know the answer to?
Her head lowered and she mumbled an answer.
I lifted her chin, looking at the red mark, and then I moved my gaze to her eyes. “This is why Mommy tells you not to jump on the sofa, okay?”
“’Kay.”
Great, our yearly picture taking day is coming in a week and now she has this red scratch on her chin. Is she trying to ruin my picture or just drive me batty?
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