Tuesday, February 28, 2006

He Types

Rejection, thy name is Lumpyhead.

Last night, Lumpyhead cried when Bump left the room. I was sitting in front of him, building a tower solely for his amusement. He took one look at me, cast a sidelong glance at the space Bump was previously occupying, and wailed.

This morning, I found this in the “Recent Documents” folder of the laptop:

Why Daddy is Better than Mommy
-by Lumpyhead

Peek-a-boo. Mommy’s peek-a-boo is mildly amusing. Like a primetime sitcom on CBS. Daddy’s peek-a-boo is Wanda Sykes, laugh-out-loud, wet-your-pants hysterical. Seriously, I’ve wet my pants. I’m not sure what the difference is, but that guy sure does a funny peek-a-boo.

Food. I’ve heard tales about how Mommy makes the milk, but it’s almost always Daddy who comes through with the bottle. And Daddy makes sure it’s a frosty beverage, cuz I likes my drinks cold. Sometimes, Mommy brings the milk warm. Bleech. She claims it’s “fresh-squeezed” and therefore better for me, but I’m not buying it. I want the frosty-cold goodness, and Daddy never lets me down.

Hair-pulling. Mommy makes a funny face when I grab her hair and yank. Daddy makes a funnier face when I grab his chest hairs and yank.

Around-ness. Daddy’s there when I wake up. Daddy’s there when I go to sleep (what? Sleep? I will NOT sleep!). Mommy’s there for a few hours in-between. She’s alright, I guess, but I quickly tire of her. Some days, she’s around all the time. Sigh. Not very often, at least - like twice a week - but it’s usually two days in a row. Ugh. I often look at her and think, “Don’t you have someplace you need to be, Woman?” Me and my Dadz need to hang, and you’re messing with our schedule. We can't do all our fun guy stuff with you around.

Lotion. What is the deal with all the lotioning, Lady? I mean, really? Maybe I like my cheeks and legs a little scaly. Why are you always with the infernal lotion? It makes me smell all sissified and junk. Daddy is much less obsessive about the lotion.

But in the end, it can be summed up with the peek-a-boo. Daddy? Consistently funny. Mommy? meh.
I'm proud that he can type at nine months and all, but I've gotta admit that I'm a little upset over his first essay.


Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah said...

We're going through the same thing here - but you know, Gabe is you. It's tough on both of us.

But it's good her can type. It is a merketable skill.

Mom101 said...

Oh man, can I relate. Especially considering Nate is a SAHD and has performed actual stand-up comedy. I am just not funny when he is around. Which is always.

Thanks for the great comment on the B-Log and showing the way over to yours!