If you thought my daughter was evil when she pretended to cook our basset hound for dinner, then you should stop reading this post right now.

I am babysitting Rebecca this evening for a few hours. She woke up and started to cry and Allison came running out of her room and it went like this,

Allison, what’s wrong, what’s wrong?
Me, nothing she’s just letting us know she is awake.
Allison as I was walking away to get a bottle, is she dead? I think she is dead, in her trying to be funny voice.
Me, Allison Claire THAT IS NOT FUNNY!
Allison, okay, okay I’ll go get the shovel.
Me, you better run because if I hear any more evil jokes like that I’ll be using that shovel alright!

And it keeps on coming.....

Allison, ewwww what is that smell, I think she pooped?
Me, I don’t think so, she just filled her diaper a few minutes ago.
Allison, oh, it must be your cooking then.
Me, where’s that damn shovel?