There is a reason I don’t have kids. Don’t get me wrong, I like them. There was even a time when I wanted one, or possible one and a half of them. But, well, men tend to run when you try and get them to dole out the DNA on the second date, yanno? Right about the time you tell them your ovalogical clock is ticking they bee-line for the men’s room to see if there is a window in there to escape from. Naw, I’m not that bad. Really. I’m kidding. I think.
Things have been going well with Taylor, Dr. Ben Dover, if you’re new to my blog, this should bring you up to speed if you’re curious (https://anchailinalainn.com/2013/07/20/the-devil-and-lil-cao-lionheart/ ). Surprising really, must be something wrong with him to put up with such an odd feck like me. His sister is really nice too so I asked her if she wanted me and Taylor to watch her baby boy Jimmy so she could run errands or take a nap. I mean, how hard could it be? He’s not a tiny peanut anymore and he eats solid foods, and I have my besty’s little
Hell Helen on Wheels for the weekend all the time. I haven’t broken her yet, right? Actually, with Jimmy we were doing fine, the adorable little family, Taylor was feeding him spaghetti-O’s and I was making the grown up version for Taylor and I to eat after we put Captain Jim to bed. You know something? It’s true; you CAN get food behind your ears! He had it everywhere. I put mine and Taylor’s cooked spaghetti in a colander in the one sink to drain and ever the efficient surrogate I offered to bathe the Captain in the second sink so we could put him to nap. He loved the water, which made the washing so much easier but when I bent him backwards to rinse his hair, he sprang a leak. He wooshed a shot worthy of Lebron James, it arced from the one sink, curved along the rim of the colander and plopped with a splash all over my just made spaghetti noodles. In shock, I looked at Taylor, he looked at me, he started laughing and Jimmy started to cry. I hugged him and handed him to Taylor.
I know, I know. I probably caused him permanent self-esteem issues by handing him away. Because of me he’ll probably never grow up to be a
Whiz Quiz Bowl Champion in high school, or for Halloween he’ll probably never want to be a whizard Harry Potter, or in old age, I bet he never grows whizened wizened. Hey I can’t make this stuff up, it’s traumatic. But, well, I draw the line at eating yellow spaghetti for a cause like an 18 month old boys self-esteem, so I told Taylor I’d be happy to rinse the spaghetti off for him, but I’m out of there and going to buy some takeout pizza.
Now I know that should have been the end of it, grab a pizza and get back home, but, well, I
whizzed by drove slowly by the pizza place four times before remembering it’s located just across the street, so an hour later fraction of a minute later I returned to the condo. Taylor was fast asleep on the couch, Jimmy had apparently used one of his washable markers to color on his uncles face and shirt, but finding it not so fun when the unsuspecting victim best uncle ever is sleeping, he crawled on the couch with him, cuddled up against his chest and fell fast asleep with the most angelic look on his face. See? I nailed it, two down for the count and I’m the last one standing. And they say Cao’s can’t parent.
Take from? Naw not really and most of this was in gest. Seriously. It was! Well at least that’s the story I’m sticking to. Have a low gravity hump day!