In a moment of temporary insanity, Mommy took me shopping even though she had forgotten the entrapment device… er, I mean stroller… at home. My sister was at preschool. How hard could it be to run errands with one child?
Molly wants to swing, so I pick her up and thread her legs through the vinyl harness. I shove her off, and she wheee’s, yawing to one side. It’s higher than I push her with other parents around. But we have the park to ourselves, for now.
If you’re the type of person whose eye twitches when someone bookmarks a page by folding the corner, let your spouse be the one to read to the baby.
Apparently my five year old daughter told her kindergarten teacher that if she ever gets married she’s going to walk down the aisle to AC/DC’s “Hells Bells.”
Most men will not read this. Men don’t want to read about other men’s parenting experiences.
“Fortunately we got to her in time, you know, before the blaze could spread,” Jessica said.
For how many more years will you host the birthday pool party with the pizza and the cake from the grocery store . . .
As one of the more common breeds of spineless parents I am a huge fan of giving in the demands of my two-year-old. She’s an F5 cyclone of a girl full of wildly fluctuating emotions and I’m the house made out of straw.