I'm not sure what happened.
I had a kidlet.
I also blogged.
Two years later, I still have a kidlet.
I have not blogged.
At all. (But, you should see me zing on Facebook!)
Looking back at the last handful of posts I managed to make in my bleary-eyed, new mama stage, I didn't even recognize the words, the voice, or even some of the witty shit that was typed. I've been gone too long.
The good thing is that I don't think anyone pays attention to this blog - so I can really get away with writing anything that I want.
Wait. I do that anyway.
So. . . let's not beat around the bush, let me give you a peek into the life of a Mama of a Spitfire child:
My child, who is too wise and too tall for his meager 2 1/2 years, followed me into the kitchen from the garage.
Kidlet: Mama. Will you take my shoes off?
Me: I can't right now. You can take them off, I have to put away the groceries.
Kidlet: Mama, I want YOU to take them off.
Me: I can't right now. (Continued putting away groceries.)
Kidlet: (More animated now.) Mama! TAKE. MY. SHOES. OFF.
Me: Okay. You open the straps and I will take them off.
Kidlet: No! YOU TAKE THEM OFF!
So, I leaned down and took his hand and placed it on the back of his shoe while I slid the shoe off with my other hand. . . thereby launching the more ginormous, eat-shit-and-die, broken-hearted, sob fest that I have ever seen. I sent him to the living room stairs to calm down and offered to talk to him about it when he was calm.
**10 minutes later**
Kidlet: (Head peering out around the corner) Mama. I'm ready to talk about it now.
Me: Okay. Come on into the kitchen.
Kidlet: Will you please put my shoes on?
Me: Sure. (Putting him on the counter and pulling on both shoes.) Maybe we can go outside and play now?
I am not exaggerating or kidding when I say that this little punk then looked me in the eyes and said, "Now, you take them off by yourself."
. . . . OMGWTFBBQ?
For those of you who are still reading and NOT laughing at my expense, he was pretty upset when I then told him that I wouldn't do it - but then we both compromised as he opened the straps and I removed the shoes.
Seriously. My baby is a Spitfire.
And he came by that honestly.
