The only thing stopping me from being the perfect parent is having a kid.
Before CC was born I had lot of ideas about how things were going to be. For one thing, he was NOT going to go around man-handling my cell phone. My brilliant plan to stop this from happening was just not to ever give it to him. Duh, right? I mean – come on. It’s not rocket science.
Fifteen months later this is one battle that I have clearly lost. I can’t even share a photo of him fondling my cell phone since I’m too busy trying to stop him from destroying the blasted thing. How often is that? Let’s just say that CC has a whole telephone routine worked out. It goes something like this “Dada?! Dada!! Mwah heh ya ya ya no nonono.” He throws his head back and laughs as if he were the villain in some eighties ski mountain movie. You know – the guy with hair like a Ken doll and a sweater tied across his chest? I call him “Blaine”.
So if you ever call me and ask to speak to “Blaine” he will gladly oblige.
By the way, this isn’t meant to be one of those snarky things you plaster on expecting mothers’ Facebook walls. When I was pregnant I hated that stuff. Let them have their dreams, ladies. Who knows, maybe some mother somewhere has actually managed to accomplish all of the goals she set for her perfectly perfect little baby. Good for her. I’m sure Little Blaine will be very well adjusted.