I just wrote a tweet to Elly Lou to watch her back because babies are dangerous anarchists and untamed fetuses are ever WORSE. Nevermind what all those soft warm pastel covered books tell you, be PREPARED.
Johnny Rotten’s got nothing on a baby.
As I recall the perils of working with such an unpredictable and volatile creature I begin to shake and sweat as the memories of the vomiting, screaming, lack of sleep and fear of death come rushing back in a wave of terror.
Yeah, yeah, they have those big doe eyes, button noses and they smell like the beguiling scent that wafts off angels as they fly away but that’s how they get you.
“You want to wake up HOW many times a night? Forty seven? ABSOLUTELY! I am THERE with you!”
“You don’t want to have your feet touch the ground until you are ten? Come jump into Mommy’s arms and I shall CARRY you everywhere you need to go!”
Sadly, this was my method of parenting and now I’m clearly paying the price as my kids don’t understand how a fork and knife work and never learned to climb stairs so maybe this isn’t entirely true?