Bubbles.

The one thing that still catches me off guard about being a mother is how very little alone time I actually have. Not that I mind really, but I realize now that I'm hardly, if ever, alone...

This morning I put Tate down for his nap, turned some Lazy Town on for Rory (Just know that I have a deep hatred for Lazy Town. My daughter? Loves it. Of course.), and headed upstairs for a shower. You know, my alone time.

Two minutes later I can hear the little pitter-patter of Rory feet running across the kitchen, and the creaking of the stairs as she climbs them. Next thing I know, she's in the bathroom. Our conversation went something like this:

Rory: "Mommy! I need help!"
Me: "Ro, I'm in the shower. You need to wait."
"No! I can't doooo iiiiittttt!" (That would be a whine.)
"Why? What's wrong?" *Peeks around curtain, sees Rory dressed in full Disney Princess Gear. We're talking dress, boa, tiara and one shoe. The other is clenched in her frustrated little fist.*
"My shoooooeeeeee won't go ooonnnnnn!"
"Okay. Can you sit on the toilet seat and wait for Mommy (Something happens to you when you have children. You start to talk about yourself in the third person. Its strange how naturally it comes...) to finish her shower? Then I'll put your shoe on. Okay?"
"Okay." *A few seconds pass* "Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Don't put the bubbles in your eye, okay? It hurt. Daddy says."

I love that kid!