Yikes

How many ways can you spell big, over-blown, silly mess? Let's say no more about it. How about I share a famous Chloe story to make everyone feel better and maybe start to think that I'm not a psycho. So we're at Home Depot the other night (interestingly enough it was the same day that while letting her get out and play in a soccer field amid our day of a million errands, she proceeds to oh so daintily lift her dress and relieve herself. There's kids on the other half of the field, warming up, laughing and pointing as I'm dragging her to the car) and we lose Chloe. Kev, who is grossly inept at handling this situation (it's not his fault, if he lost her at least once everyday, it would come easier to him) was furious. Not concerned, just furious. I turned to my red-neck hollering skills, but to no avail. One of the workers sensed my panic and asked what she was wearing. "Attention all associates, we have a lost littel girl, wearing......" They then page for her over the loudspeaker. I continue to look and happen to look down an aisle just in time to see her running in the opposite direction. I love children. I guess it could be worse. A lady in our ward was there and she was telling us how her son would run, jump on a shelf and pull something in front of him while everyone was wildly searching for him. Anyway, that's it. Leash