Ryders new game is using a cup without a lid. I supposed it would be a lot less messy and the more sane mothers wouldn't think of giving their 15 month old son a cup of milk with no lid, but it just wouldn't be as much fun to watch how proud he is of himself when he's done. Even if his clothes are soaked and there is a puddle on the floor. A puddle of milk is better than a puddle of other things, right?
On to my next point, I've decided that if I didn't have to change R's outfit after every meal, and if my house weren't a complete disaster by the end of the day, my life would not be complete. Digging toys out of the toilet and tracking down where the rotten smell from the food that he hid somewhere in the house has become a completely normal part of life.
Due to only having two bedrooms for three boys, we are having to figure out where everyone will sleep when W is old enough to be in his crib. We've given T the chance to be grown up and decide for himself. He can either have the smaller bedroom (where R now sleeps) all to himself, or he can share his room and all of his toys with R and they can sleep in the large room together. He decided that he wants to stay and share with R, so we are doing a trial run. R now gets to play in T's room with him and all of the big boy toys. It's going alright so far. I hear quite a bit of "No R" or "Don't touch that R!" but we are working on it. And boy does R love all of the new toys and trouble he can get into in the new room.
W isn't vomiting any more. We were a little worried at first because it was becoming more frequent. The Dr advised me to try a formula change, and after we did that, the vomiting stopped. His poops still aren't regular enough, but I'm hoping that within a few weeks after the formula has had time to work he will get better with that too. He did surprise me with 4 stinky diapers to change last night though, so I'm very hopeful.
The baby fat diet still isn't going well. Crankiness and moodiness has driven me to eat whatever I see today, including the cake on the counter. The leftover soda, which I had stopped drinking, has called to me as well. Maybe tomorrow.
I realize now that if I'm listing all of the crazy and eventful things that my children do here, I'll have nothing to talk to my mother about after she reads this. 
Life lesson for today: You never love poop until you become a mom.
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