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Posts Tagged ‘Recreation’

Eat your oatmeal.

Just take a bite,

It’s not horrible.

Thanks for sneezing your oatmeal on me.

Day-in, day-out.

Stop that!

No you can not eat your brother’s head.

If you don’t leave that cat alone I swear…

Day-in, day-out .

Get that out of your mouth!

No, seriously give it to me.

OMG where in the world did you get this?!?

You’re disgusting.

Day-in, day out.

Yes, those are his feet.

Aren’t they cute?

ACK! DO NOT BITE HIS TOES!

Day-in, day-out.

Be gentle.

TOO MUCH!

TOO MUCH!

YOU CAN’T HEAD BUTT YOUR BROTHER!

Day-in, day-out.

Take a bite of the sandwich.

Look, mommy ate it.

Thank you.

I really wanted your slobber in my mouth.

Day-in, day-out.

Yes, you have to take a nap.

We don’t throw our bottles.

Stay in your crib!

For crying out loud STAY IN YOUR CRIB!

Day-in, day-out.

MMM yummy yogurt.

Do you want a bite?

That’s what I thought.

THPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP…

Don’t you ‘uh no’ me!

Day-in, day-out.

Look it’s a ball.

Can you roll the ball?

NO!

We don’t throw the ball at your brother’s head!

Day-in, day-out.

Look at these blocks.

Don’t they look fun?

ACK! DON’T SLAP YOUR BROTHERS FACE WITH THEM!

Day-in, day-out.

Can you just try a little dinner?

If you don’t start eating we have to see a specialist.

You don’t want to see the specialist do you?

Yes, the bowl belonged on that floor.

Truly, it did.

Day-in, day-out.

Sit still.

I have to change your diaper.

Sit still.

NO!

STAY!

DON’T PEE ON THAT!

Day-in, day-out.

Goodnight my little man.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

I love you.

Day-in, day out.

It’ll all start again.

Day-in, day out.

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I’ve mentioned before that my kid isn’t really a “momma’s boy”…

In fact, he’s more of a “thanks for the ride and the food, but now that I’m out, other people are WAY more interesting… OoO is that a sock monkey?!?!” type of guy.

It bothered me to begin with. Ok, so it like bothered me last week too, but I kind of just get used to it and brush off his attitude.

Yet, today something switched in him… He became a “momma’s boy”, but not in a good “I love you, lets cuddle” kind of way… No, his transition into “momma’s boydom” was of a different approach.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

“Honey, I’m making you cookies. Chill out for a sec and I’ll pick you up,” I calmly encourage him.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

“Dude, seriously? You’re fine. Give me a sec.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH”

SIGH

As if the ear-piercing screams and having to dance around the crying limp noodle wasn’t bad enough, he learned a new trick.

“Robbie, what are you doing?” I watch as he scurries over to my leg, all the while screaming as if his left arm had been ripped off and fed to the sock monkey.

The kid climbed up to my leg, preceded to wrap his appendages  around my calf and plop his little bottom right onto my foot. Now it was my turn to want to scream.

I moved around trying to get dinner started and his snack finished, but was neither quick nor adept at this. I think it might have had to do with the screaming leech that had adhered himself to my leg with super glue.

After I was able to finally shake the little booger off. I tried to quickly finish up dinner and moved on to picking up toys and cleaning out the bedroom.

He followed me, his call of desperation continued.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

I picked up laundry.

He was there.

I changed the sheets.

He was there.

I put away clothes.

He was there.

I was finishing the floor by wedging my body under his crib to free all the toys he had shoved under there and,apparently, that was all he could take.

He laid on his back, eyes closed tight, and began to wail.

He was inconsolable .

Not that he was easily consoled before though. I had already tried everything from cuddling, cooing, playing, tickling, youtube… He wasn’t having it…

Needless to say, kid ate dinner and went to bed VERY early tonight…

Big Robbie likes to say it’s because he “knows”.

Does he truly “know”?

I say.

Oh great and mighty, pint-sized, future telling swami

What are the winning lotto numbers?!?!? Mama needs some earplugs.

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