That sort of thing was a fully expected part of being a parent for me.
PK is currently running through the house naked, clutching his penis, yelling I HAVE TO PEE! I HAVE TO PEE! I HAVE TO PEE! AHHHH! at the top of his lungs.
He's completely unable to give me a satisfactory explanation about why he doesn't just GO PEE instead of running around yelling about it.
The getting attached to unpleasant damp perishable objects still throws me a bit. It's a McDonald's hamburger: eating it is bad enough, but carrying it around? It did look quite a lot like the BatSignal, though.
There are many such conversations. It could be worse.
That's what small digital cameras or cellphone cameras are for. IMX, it's a very easy way to make grandparents happy, too.
And take a smart-ass adult kid down a peg later on, if need be.
On the other hand, by the time PK came along, I had a lot of practice saying "no, I am not going to kiss your penis."
unpleasant damp perishable objects
That pretty well describes a McDonald's hamburger even before it's been bitten into Bat Signal form.
Conversations a graduate degree in English never prepares one for:
'Offspring, dear, we don't play with our penis in the TV room. We play with our penis in private.'
'Silly mommy! You don't *have* a penis!'
I've actually seen this one play out in practice,, and yes, she can. Probably only for another decade or so, though.
we don't play with our penis in the TV room
All available data suggests this statement is false.
(Also: shouldn't that be "We don't play with our penes"?)
(Unless it is the collective penis to which you refer. I never thought of there being such an object but I guess I could see it...)
(Collective Penis: good band name.)
We don't nitpick in our blog comments, Clownaelig. We nitpick in our internal monologue.
I'll take this thing to 37 all by myself if I have to!
(Or with Ned's gracious assistance.)
8: It works for me. The Cheerio story reminds me to mention that it's not a smart thing to call a bright blue antihistamine tablet a "nose pill", creating just another WTF moment of many a few days later.
Favorite recently overheard conversation between my almost-four-year-old daughters, conducted while they were contentedly playing in the next room:
Thing 1: (murmur murmur murmur)
Thing 2: (murmur murmur murmur)
Thing 1: NO! I'M BUSY! I'M NOT GOING TO SMELL YOUR BOTTOM!
i've a batman belt buckle and damn it is going to reslut in ufrontunate i mean unanticipated children someday.
Aaaaaaaand the Saturday night drunk commenting begins.
Its like 4 degrees here i'm not even rpobably going to out to the bars.
Who says you need to go to a bar to comment drunk?
Howabout this one coming from my teenage daughter after listening to her describe trying to teach her sophomore friend how to insert a tampon:
"... I mean come on! If you're scared of that, just wait -- there's bigger things goin' in there pretty soon."
Just the sort of thing a dad wants to hear.
Just the sort of thing a dad wants to hear.
She probably wasn't referring to you, Rich.
Laughing so hard at 29 is one of the things I'm going to hell for, isn't it?
Yes. And I'll likely be right there with you.
She probably wasn't referring to you, Rich.
Anyone up for Sunday morning drunk commenting? If I started it, I own it.
It's barely even the morning in Hawaii.
This is -- at times - the only way to get the three year old to eat. He bites, and then administers the rorschach test to Dad. Then bites again. And expects it to be something completely different each time.
The other desperation technique is having him mimic the type of bite that each of the 26 (one for each letter) animals on his placemat would do. So the narwhal makes big big bites, and he has to pretend to stand on one foot for the flamingo bite. Etc.
Just be glad your child will eat the burger in the bun, rather than having to have all food be separate. One day I'll look back on this and laugh. Or be in therapy.