
It's nice to see that Jett, like his dad and most men for that matter, is a mess. It is also nice to see that this problem with being messy apparently starts at a very, very early age. I can't remember what I was like a 10 months old, but Jett has gone through enough paper towels in the last 11 months to fill a small landfill.
Just like dad, he is constantly running around, getting things out, and making a complete disaster. I really do feel for my wonderful wife Jessie. I mean, Jett and I try our hardest to keep our stuff put away, but we seem to always come up short. For instance, the other day I cooked a steak for Jett and I (ribeye, which Jett absolutely loved) and after cutting it into little tiny piece about the size of the buttons on a phone, I put it in front of the little man for him to savor and enjoy. I turned around for about two minutes and, to my surprise, I came back to find Jett's plate completely empty. I was so proud of my little man, but upon closer inspection I found that roughly 30% of the ribeye ended up on Jett's shirt and pants, 40% ended up all over the floor, 27% was consumed, and about 3% ended up in his hair.
It wasn't exactly how I
envisioned our first steak together, but I can't really blame
Jett for being frustrated. It can't be all that enjoyable to eat steak with five
teeth.