Another conversation

My husband and I were on the phone this past Monday night. (No, that's not the funny part.) While we were talking, I was trying to clear a space on the dining room table so I could lay out some newspaper on which I could repaint our wind chime. Here's how it went:

Me: Ew. I found some weird sticky red stuff on the table.
TheMr.: What is it?
Me: I do not know. I had to scrape it off, though.
TheMr.: I think TheChild was eating something near the middle chair this weekend.
Me: Well, the spot I found at first was near the end of the table. Then I looked and found another red sticky spot of ick near the middle chair. Jeez! How does she manage to get stuff on everything?!?*
TheMr.: *laughs*
Me: I still like my idea of cutting a head hole in a large vinyl tablecloth and making her wear it while she eats.**
TheMr.: We could do that!
Me: Of course, that wouldn't protect the house. Maybe we should make her wear the tablecloth/bib and then cover everything near her with plastic.
TheMr.: Maybe we should just start making her eat everything outside.


*Earlier this year, we had to establish a "no wiping your hands on the dog!" rule, after I discovered strawberry jelly that had dried on Sawyer's back.

**On Sunday morning TheChild and TheMister went to Panera to get breakfast stuff and bring it back to the house. During the ride home, TheChild managed to spill hot chocolate on her (brand freaking new) skirt. Once they were home, she managed to spill hot chocolate all down the front of her (brand freaking new) shirt.