Morning

Deacon was crying. McKay was crying. I had just finished cleaning up the spilled children's tylenol, when Deacon knocked my glass of milk to the ground, spilling milk everywhere. Parker, who had refused to get dressed and was instead pulling on knee pads, elbow pads, and wrist pads in order to turn himself into RoboParker, looked up and said, "Wow, mom, you're having a really bad morning." Ahh, thanks for noticing RoboParker.