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All outfits laid out the night before (he likes to wear collared Ralph Lauren one-sie's and always packs a coordinating bib for the day), and I must resort to things that are easily changed (should some last minute spit up find itself on my shoulder) and conducive to squatting and playing on the floor (in case the little one doesn't allow me 5 minutes to change when we get home).
The actual amount of time I will have to dress in said outfit all depends on how long the dangling owl on the activity mat (thank you Auntie Christine!) will entertain us. (This also is of course assuming that I was able to brush my teeth before hubby left for the day. If not, that eats into my precious 4-6 minutes of prep time). You never knew just how quickly you could get a dress on, brush your hair, and curl your eyelashes than when you begin to hear the first rumblings of what, if left unattended, will turn into a lung warming cry. Luckily, the owl was particularly fascinating this morning and I was even able to make a pony tail with my now shoulder length hair.
In the elevator going to the garage, an older woman remarked to her friend how early it was to be leaving the house this morning, at the ripe hour of 7:55. It felt like high noon to me.
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