I love going through photos from a few months ago, but they always make me question the legality of my motherhood.
Honestly, why do I do things like this? It's always funny at the time. Poor child.
Oh, now I remember. It's probably because I do it to myself too (um, where did that body go? I must have forgotten to pack it when I moved from the apartment). Let's not even get into the gold suit or the faux fur purple coat or that whole Bohemian Rhapsody debacle.
And while I'm on the subject of my superior parenting skills, here's another testament to why I should be crowned Mother of the Year.
Someone save me. Please.
Side note: I love this. It's much less pronounced now, but I love it nonetheless.