Horrible, horrible candy. Or, as Bug would say, "'nacks!" (Snacks).
It turns my two year old into a whining, crying, yelling, screaming, parent-shushing toddler.
Therefore, I have divided most of the Halloween candy up between me and the hubs.
Of course, I really don't need all that candy. I'm trying really hard to lose all that baby weight that I so lovingly gained for little Gizmo (who is actually 12.5lbs already, and isn't quite so little).
Which brings me to a something called P90X. Which is, if you haven't heard of it before, a butt-kickin', make-you-feel-like-you're-dying workout program.
My sister and her husband are in town for an extended vacation. They own P90X. And, oh how I love my sister, she is actually motivating me to work out with her. I'm actually pretty good at working out when I have someone to compete with. (And, my sister is as skinny as a rail, so she makes for some good motivating envy!)
Anyway, like this post, I'm completely spacey. (It's been a rough couple of weeks, with the husband working WAY more than he's getting paid to do...stupid salary...and not enough sleep for anyone).
I was talking about 'nacks. This morning, I found Bug on top of the refrigerator. ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE! I tell you what, that kid is crazy. And he got up there for one thing. Candy. Horrible, horrible candy!
(PS- The hubby tickled Gizmo under the chin and actually got him to giggle! It was awesome!)