A Dose of Reality

If I get called a 'babypoopyhead' one more time...by a baby, poopy head... someone is going down.  And it won't be this 'babypoopyhead'.  I'm sure I've been called worse in the past.  And I'm sure I will be called worse in the future.  But this 'babypoopyhead' thing?  It's driving me to poop.   On my head.  And think it's okay.  Since I am a baby after all.  And because really, most days, what is the difference between my head and a toilet?   Not much.  Both are full of crap.  And scream to be cleaned. 

Boys have super human strengths.  They can snap the blade right off of a ceiling fan. 

And where was I, you might ask?  Pooping. 

They blamed it on this guy.

But I'm pretty sure it was this one.

Or quite possibly this one.

They also have a way with words.  No, you may not go into a public bathroom by yourself.  You are a pain in the butt mom.

And so are you.  We'll call it even.

They can apologize.  Sorry mom, I might have wiped some snot on you when you buckled me in.

They boast about you to their friends.  My mom drives really fast.

They know how to entertain a friend.  When we get home, we can throw my sister's clothes all over the house and then we can pee on the floor!

They are always trying to help out.  I don't help anyone on Sundays.  It's not Sunday.  What?  What day is it?  It's Monday.  I don't help anyone on Mondays. 

Yeah, me neither.  Let's go throw your sister's clothes all over the house and pee on the floor.

I have visions. Visions of the future.  When they're all grown up.  Married.  And tortured by children of their own.  Then I have Lillian to bring me back to reality.

Mom, can you imagine Dempsey when he's all grown up?  He'll be runnin' all over the place.  No one will want to marry him.   Thanks Lillian.   Because what are girls for?  A dose of reality.  And boys?  The reality that you need a lot of doses. 

She can't blame it all on the boys.

Because they learned it from watching her.


 

Her prodigies.