"No, That's Not Your Dada.." And Other Miscellanous "Why's.."
Why is it, that as soon as one's child becomes mobile, more specifically my child, their forehead automatically connects with every sharp object in the house? It truly seems as if the second that Carter started crawling, he literally bumps his head into every sharp corner of every single wall in our entire house. It's as if his head is magnetized to these corners by a force greather than the two of us. And to think, I laughed at that soft-coated crawling helmet that I saw that baby wearing in the magazine last week...
Why is it, that my son chooses the exact milisecond that I happen to turn my back to him probably to pee or breathe, to shove that giant piece of dog kibble into his mouth and chipmunk-it so far away that I need the Jaws Of Life to pry his little mouth open and extract it? And where did this kibble even come from? Sheepie hasn't eaten that brand of kibble in... months.
How come my child insists on reaching out to the attractive young Marine in line ahead of us at the post office, screaming "Dada Dada Dada" at the top of his lungs? It only makes for an incredibly awkward couple of minutes as I try to explain to The Marine, while casually flashing my wedding bands all over, that I am in fact married and that my husband may or may not resemble him from behind.. with one eye shut. And that no, my darling child does not make a habit of referring to random strangers as his "Dada," and no, this is not how I pick up dates.
Why do I want to simultaneously be Best Friends Forever and Ever with not only this Mama, but also her crazycakes clients? I just have it in my head that we would get along swimmingly. You know, once I could get past that wicked speech inmpediment/accent.
Why is it that my child couldn't care less about the hundreds of dollars of toys he has scattered throughout our house but has become virtually obsessed with both my iPhone and DSLR? These are Mama's toys, my friend. Not for babies. Now, go play with Dada's old Motorola Razor.
"what camera strap..."
And finally, how come one's child has no qualms sleeping through two loads of laundry, dinner prep and both dusting and laundry-folding, but the minute I try to sit down to blog, Kindle or catch up on my other besties, Bethenny and the Real Housewives, sleep is almost impossible to be had? Has Daddy been talking to you, Carter?