The Broom Battle

So yesterday Ward and I had a couple of battles. That's right battles. The first was the vacuum battle. I was vacuuming and he was chasing it because he wanted to play with the reachy thingys. (that was fun for spellcheck.) Every time he "caught" the vacuum he would plop his Royal Fattness right in front of it making vacuuming impossible. So I drag him into the living room and try to get the kids to entertain him. But my backup battalion usually is found yelling and chasing him as he books it back to the vacuum. So the cycle repeats.

The other battle I have with Ward is similar but much more intense. I call it The Broom Battle. As I sweep the kitchen (constantly) to get all the food my kids drop on the floor Ward tries to beat me to the food before I get it in the dust pan. Getting between a fat baby and food is dangerous. He even emits a war yelp (ok, maybe a cry of despair) as I sweep the food away from his fat little fingers. He's tricky too. He sits and watches me for a while making me think today is a day of peace and then he sees me reach for the dust pan....all heck breaks loose! He books it at top speed on those fat thighs and grabs handfuls of stuff from the pile while I try to put my legs between him and the pile and sweep it into the dust pan at the same time. I kid you not, people, it is brutual!