March 23, 2005
Please, don't call social services on me. I'm really not a bad parent...
Annie is next to me on the bed as I type, feeding her "baby". She has informed me that if the baby spills, she'll clean it up. And, I shouldn't worry, because baby food doesn't stain. While I'm writing this, she is giving me instructions on how to take care of her baby while she is at her mother's.
A few minutes ago, though, we had the following dialogue:
Wondering if she'll find it funny when she goes on her first date
Annie is next to me on the bed as I type, feeding her "baby". She has informed me that if the baby spills, she'll clean it up. And, I shouldn't worry, because baby food doesn't stain. While I'm writing this, she is giving me instructions on how to take care of her baby while she is at her mother's.
A few minutes ago, though, we had the following dialogue:
Annie: (Lying on my bed, big blue eyes awake and alert at 6:30 am)
Daddy: I have to go to the bathroom and make some stink. Do you want me to save some stink for you?
Annie: (without a pause) No, I've already been making stink... I farted in your bed.
Daddy: (Speechless in the presence of a master.)
Wondering if she'll find it funny when she goes on her first date