The Devil Wears Carters

I am not a superstitious person.

I do not freak out if I walk under a ladder or have a black cat cross my path.

I have enough real things to worry about like will Big E ever be tall enough to ride Space Mountain or will Little E stop eating tooth brushes.

This afternoon we were packing up to head out to a play date.  I finished stocking up the diaper bag, grabbed the Yoys, and headed out to the car.

I noticed as I was buckling Little E into his seat, he had smuggled some plastic colored number magnets out to the car. I tried to pry them out of his hands.  He put the death grip on them.  I relented.  It was only a five minute car drive, hopeful he wouldn't chew on them and swallow magnets.

Once we arrived, I again tried to pull the three magnets out of Little E's pudgy hands.

I wrestled them free, for a brief moment.  When I looked down at them, I noticed something odd and bone chilling.

My sweet Little E had pulled three number six magnets off the fridge.  Little E had morphed into Satan's messenger.


What in the hell?  Literally.  Was Little E trying to tell me something?

Should I rename him Damien?

Am I the only one that thinks this is a little bizarre?
This happened.


Popular posts from this blog

Take Your Yoy to Work Day (or maybe not)

Letters to the Superintendent and Cobb County School Board

Happy Second Day of School (E-mail sent on August 3, 2021)