The other day, I legit chased my toddler around my street with no pants. ZERO pants. He was running all over the street and I didn’t have time to think about whether or not neighbors could see my saggy white rear end peeking out from underneath my shirt. I had a toddler to catch. If you happened to look out of your window and you live on my street… you’re welcome.
As Josh was hurling himself off the couch today, I heard him talking to himself before each jump. I listened closely and he seemed to be mumbling “Be careful” – something that Dave and I repeat on an hourly basis here. So, my toddler is self-admonishing, but continues his acts of insane physical bravado. Paging Dr. Freud.
Josh: “Look mom- Alaskan King crab legs are on sale!”
Me: “Go get a job, son.”
Today I played the “Does my child really need to go to the doctor” game… And I lost. I mean, I won, cuz he’s not *that* sick.
It’s the Kobayashi Maru of parenting.
Tonight while reading “Green Eggs and Ham” to Joshua:
Me: “I am Sam.”
*Josh points questioningly to the guy with the hat*
Me (hesitantly): “Ah, I’m not sure what his name is Joshua. The book doesn’t say.”
*Josh points again*
Me: “Yeah, we don’t know his name son.”
*Josh points again*
Me: “Josh, it’s the dude with no name.”
Dave pipes in: “Let’s just call him ‘Jim’ mmm kay?”
Dear serfs of the Kingdom of Lin: It is Just. Too. Early. SOMEONE GET ME MY COFFEE!
Love, the Benevolent Despot