M’kay. I’ve been on this planet for almost 4 years now. I’ve seen and done a lot, but there are a few complaints and several changes I’d like to see in the near future. Please take note:
#1 – What’s with the whole messy ‘rock-star-morning-after’ look I am presented with at the crack of dawn? SO not flattering. The next time I bring my gloriousness into your bedroom ready to start my day, please have your makeup and hair done-did like a goddess. I expect nothing less.
#2 – Please shut up about this whole ‘having-to-make-coffee’ thing first thing in the morning. Just get it over with or hire someone to do it for you. We have a train set to wreck and cars to crash, so let’s get to it. I wait for no one!
#3 – I love when we go bye-bye, but must you blast that crap you call ‘music’ and sing at the top of your lungs every single time we’re in the car? Seriously, my ears begin to bleed. I love you, but you’re a sucky singer.
#4 – Between 8 AM and 2:30 PM while Sissy is in school, this time is MINE. I will dictate what happens; please don’t try to fight it. Do as I say and not as I do and no one will get hurt.
# 5 - Oh, and that word ‘NO’ you keep yelling at me? Yea, totally do not understand and will never acknowledge. Ever. Get use to it Sunshine!
#6 – The next time I tell you I have to go poop, RUN, don’t walk, to the bathroom. My little body can only hold it in for so long before risking a full-blown explosion, which I will leave you responsible to clean up. Have fun with that.
# 7 – No matter what you serve me for breakfast/lunch/dinner, a portion of it will end up on the carpet. I'm not sure why I feel the need for such messy expressionism.....perhaps repressed PTBD (post traumatic birth disorder)? Anyway, it will happen, so be prepared.
#8 – Mom, the yoga pants. Every day. Really?! Are you seriously trying to tell the world that you’ve completely given up?!
# 9 – Naptime is for sissies. I won’t do it. I’ve canceled my subscription. I’m done. Deal with it woman!
#10 - Besides the frustration I cause, the endless amounts of screaming I make you endure, the amounts of hair follicles you tend to rip out and the nerves I shatter, you still find the time to hold me in your arms, tell me you love me, and plant your disgusting wet kisses on me. All over. It’s gross, but I love ya for it.
Dude. Bug-a-Boo. J-Man. Precious Baby Boy (and all the other crap you call me.)