Evie and I (this was about two weeks pre-Cohen) were hanging out in my room. I meandered into my bathroom to start doing my hair and Evie headed to her room where she began reading books.
Or so I thought.
Yes. That is homemade cinnamon syrup. All. Over.
I stopped short when I saw her. Evie looked at me and said, "Spilled." Umm. Yeah.
My favorite girl had spilled an entire gravy boat's worth of syrup, and was proceeding to eat/smear it with her hands. At that moment I realized I had two choices. I could either laugh or cry well, really three choices because clearly I opted to run and get the camera, so I chose to laugh. And laugh and laugh. If nothing else, than from her simple explanation of what happened. "Spilled." Classic. A month later and it still makes me laugh.
When it came time to clean up Miss Evie, the table, the chairs, and the carpet below her I wasn't laughing quite as hard.