You know those frantic last seconds before heading out the door to church? Still need mascara, The boys need shoes. Jeff, get the snacks! Your scriptures are by the bed. I walk into the kitchen to make a bottle for Jack and this is what I see:
JEFF! Come quick! And bring the camera. Once the flash goes off, Jackson starts posing away in delight.
Well, that outfit's ruined. Strip the clothes. Wash the thick chalky powdery mess off his face and hands and try to pry open those tight fists. Make the baby cry.

And this little guy was so proud of himself that he didn't make the mess this time. (Or maybe he was so happy because now Jackson qualifies as a good partner in crime)

A few other titles I considered for this post:
When the baby's quiet...
What to do with all that extra formula when the baby turns 1
Why we were late to church (cuz that NEVER happens, right?)
Proof that I starve my children
or
That fat baby eats everything




