In theory we're heading to the commissary any minute now. I'm putting together the list, looking up recipes to make sure I have all the stuff, etc.
His Highness has his jacket on, as well as shoes & socks. This is good because it is not always the case. The Littler One does not, but when His Highness opened the back door and said, "Come on!" he followed His Highness outside anyway.
Meanwhile I'm getting my stuff together, running the dishwasher, blah blah blah, and I hear fussing, so I check outside. I'm thinking the Littler One is motoring around on the deck, crying 'cuz it's cold, right? No. Well, yes, he's crying because of the cold, but he has made it all the way to the end of the deck, down the 2-3 steps, and into the grass.
Do I go rescue him? No. I come back & start writing a blog post. No worries though, he made it back inside and is now at my feet, asking me to pick him up, and give him a hug, and for the love of all that is good to please warm him up a bit.
I'll be home later to accept my Mom of the Year trophy...