Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Apathy Sold Separately


Dear Senator Franken,
May I call you Uncle Al? I'm going to be really up-front with you and tell you that I didn't vote for you. Not because I don't think you're funny (all Senators should be funny -- how else would they get such hot mistresses, right? It's not with dough on your limited salaries.) No, I didn't vote for you because I'm not old enough. In fact, I'm not even old enough to have a blog, so I'm using Momma's.

Let's start over. Congratulations on being named Senator, and more important, on your position in the Senate Judiciary Committee. I trust Aunt Sonia is a shoe-in now, right?

Umm... okay, what I really wanted to write you about is cold medicine. See, I've got a cold. I'm seven months old, and I'm suffering. I need cold medicine. But all the hop heads and irresponsible parents of the world have colluded in their idiocy, and now there's no such thing as cold medicine for little people. Even my brother who is really old (almost three) can't take OTC cold medicine.

Have you ever had a summer cold, Uncle Al? Have you ever had snot running uncontrollably down your tiny, chapped philtrum and into your mouth because you're too uncoordinated to use a tissue (or be trusted not to eat and choke on it), and the big people in your life only glance your direction often enough to ensure you aren't drowning in your own salty fluids? Have you? I didn't think so. No offense, Uncle Al, but you were born in an era when mommies were rubbing 80 proof on their baby's gums at the merest hint of molars and people said things like, "Awww... it's only a small gash -- walk it off, Al!"

So have some sympathy for the little people. Bring back cold medicine, Al. I promise I'll vote for you in 17 years and five months if you make baby drugs a centerpiece of your senatorial life's work.

Love,

WeeBO

P.S. Momma is wondering if I'm eligible for FMLA. She says keeping me in diapers is pretty pricey, and she's tired of changing two kids' poopy pants. Not that it would be an issue if my brother would consider for one moment the damage he's doing to the environment by not potty training. But that's another post for another day.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Kasparov Versus Deep Blue

HUBBY: Okay, I'll go grab dinner now.

ME: You're taking the big kid with you, right? (POINTING TO BABY MONITOR, OVER WHICH BABY'S BEDTIME NOISES ARE BEING TRANSMITTED FOR PARANOID PARENTAL LISTENING PLEASURE)

HUBBY: I'd like to, but he's outside right now, enjoying the bounce house. He'd probably have more fun if he stayed. (PUTTING ON PERSUASIVE "YOU TAKE HIM" TONE)

ME: Right. But if she cries, I'll need to tend to her. (MIRRORING HUBBY'S TONE)

HUBBY: (SIGHS) Okay, I'll take him. I swear it's like a game of chess.

ME: Checkmate.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Coercing Good Wishes


Hubby records the evening news every night*, and he often spends weekend mornings catching up on his programs. This morning, he was hanging out with The Ambassador and the dogs, watching yesterday's (or Tuesday's -- who knows) news, and the following conversation unfolded:


THE AMBASSADOR: Want to watch Penguins**?

HUBBY: (Hits pause.) Say, "Happy Father's Day".

THE AMBASSADOR: No.

HUBBY: Then no Penguins. (Presses play.)

THE AMBASSADOR: Want to watch Penguins!

HUBBY: (Hits pause.) Say, "Happy".

THE AMBASSADOR: Happy.

HUBBY: Father's.

THE AMBASSADOR: No.

HUBBY: Fine. (Presses play.)

THE AMBASSADOR: PENGUINS!

HUBBY: (Presses pause.) Happy.

THE AMBASSADOR: Happy.

HUBBY: Father's.

THE AMBASSADOR: Fodder's.

HUBBY: Day.

THE AMBASSADOR: Day.

HUBBY: Happy Father's Day.

THE AMBASSADOR: Happy Fodder's Day. (Then... meekly...) Penguins?

HUBBY: Okay.







*Don't ask why. I can assure you the answer will not satisfy you. It's not like Hubby is a neo-Luddite. He manages to read approximately 420 news sites over the course of a normal day. Why the TV evening news is still deemed necessary, much less why he records it totally baffles me.

**Penguins of Madagascar. Quite possibly the funniest afternoon cartoon on TV, from which Hubby and I have picked up such lines as, "He's an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, and dunked in nasty sauce!"