Yes, my child once cried when an episode of The Real
Housewives was over.
No, that doesn’t embarrass me. I understand where the tears came from- I,
too, become saddened when the hour long episode comes to an end and I know I
have to wait an entire week to see who will get into a verbal altercation next.
(And plus, it’s a lot less pathetic when you are watching trashy tv with a
buddy. Although, I think it makes me
more trashy since I’m letting my 2 year old watch it with me- oh well, at least
I’m not watching it alone.)
Yes, my child’s new favorite word is booby.
No, I don’t try and stop him from saying it (Seriously, have
you ever heard a two year old belt out his own musical number entitled: “Booby,
Booby, Booby” in the middle of a crowded park?
I have…it’s hilarious.)
Yes, my child asks to go to a restaurant as he pushes his dinner plate to the center of the dining room table every night without fail.
No, that doesn't offend me. I am fully aware that my cooking is awful. I want to go out to eat every night too.
(Last night I forgot that I was making a frozen pizza for dinner and burnt it. Chase got a cupcake for dinner. We should have just gone to Chucky-E-Cheese
like Chase suggested in the first place.)
Yes, I am a helicopter parent. Anytime my child steps more than an inch out of
my peripheral site, you can start to feel the wind from my propellers spinning
overhead. Make sure you bring a light coat if you are going to be at the same location as me.
No, I don’t get frequent flier miles.
Yes, my child farts on me at least 10 times a day.
No, I don't find that to be odd behavior. I think of it as more of a term of endearment than inappropriate social behavior. (I fear I may be on the path to raising a socially awkward child. Which I'm totally okay with. The less sleepovers he's invited too, the more nights I have a buddy to watch The Real Housewives with.- Totally, kinda kidding.)
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| Who wouldn't want this little guy farting on them every day? |
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