Spit Fire

This big ole cup. Chels and I bought this steal of a deal a few years back- before Deeter even existed- when we took Porter and Dallin to the San Diego Zoo. I refer to Chels as if she's my husband. She's not. Just my sis-in-law who's been my substitute husband when her and I decide to travel without Yosh. But that's a whole different post for a whole different day. Because I have a feeling she might have to divorce me.

Anyways, this gallon size cup actually comes with a big ole zebra top and a straw. Making it a total of like 2 feet tall or something absurd like that. It was perfect for carrying around the hunormous zoo and taking advantage of free refills. It kept the whole family quenched.

Any way you cut it, it's nothing close to ideal for cookies and milk. And it's nothing a 2 year old should be handling.

But that would only be if you asked the parents. Because I'm sure if you asked Deeter, he would disagree. Actually, there's no need to ask Deeter how he feels about the subject. The picture tells it all. And not included in the picture is his perfect Fleur de Sel Chocolate Chip Cookie that he's washing down.

I've always said I love spit fire kids. Nice spit fire kids. Not mean ones. Because there is a big difference between the two. Now I'm just trying to figure out how to raise one. And I'm trying to figure out it Deeter is a nice or mean one. Just kidding just kidding.

Raise your hand if you like spit fires.

Now tell me all the secrets... a-sippity-sap por favor.



post edit: I should emphasize. This post was written as I was thinking of the "cute" side of Deeter's spit fire self.
~In the same sitting from the above picture, he was doing the yell/whisper first to his dad, then to me, "Dad, you will take care of me? You guys will take care of me?"
~Last week, in a nudey moment, Deeter was touching his thingy thing. "Mom, tell me to get me hands off my weiner. Ok? Say the words." He knows how to charismatically maintain control.
~He's by far our funniest kid. FYI.