Chewing tobacco

Chewing tobacco ain't for everybodee, but I's enjoyes it.

I guess the terrible two's kicked into gear. Not only is Emma saying, "No, No, No," and throwing candy bars at the local Rite Aide but she's started spitting out her chewing tobacco.

The Baby Mystique

I'm not trapped in the Baby Avante-garde. People call me a toddler, trying to pigeon hole all my needs as excessive. I'm 100% free of all categories.

I have destroyed the mystique of the baby Avante-garde.

the "Baby" Avant-garde

What is the "Baby" Avant-garde like? It's filled with power crazed mommies and political pole takers who wheel strollers in the middle of the road and try to convince us that our beauty starts at our noses and ends at our bums. the "Baby" Avant-garde is not interested in changing diapers, just cutesy pictures depicting the glory of life; such as an artsy picture of a babies hand.

I tried to join the "Baby" Avant-garde but was told I was too shlumppy and unfocused and I walked out of the play ground trying to hide my hurt.

Multi-tasking

I'm like, I have to be at the children's museum, the library, at school, at the sticker store, play-dates, the park, hair cuts, check-ups, I barely have time to nap.

Emma is the multi-tasker of the future. She has the ability to use a nano-pod as a phone.

Wacky Doo!

Scib bot. Skee bee di bee do bob! This is mine! Skebee, do. See Bee, Do Bee.

(Hee-hee-hee)

Babee orange jeuce, Da-dee.
Sib Boobee, Scib Ba, bla bee.

Emma has taken the English language to a third, forth and fifth dimension.

I'll have another

Everybody thinks, I don't know what's going on. Mommy is walking around like her belly is a helium balloon. Hey, I know the 411 and I'm happy the way things are now. And I just have to say, there's a certain good feeling you get going to the pub and the bar-keep 'll give you whatever you ask for.

All the books say we're not supposed to tell Emma she's going to have a baby brother or sister (my wife won't let the sonogram people tell us the sex, which is another story) until the day when it is about to happen. That toddlers have no sense of time, are not naturally long term planners. Yet, it does seem, Emma is spending a lot of time at the local pub.

orange crayon disaster

I was drawing in the bathtub. It was going great but suddenly I felt hungry. There were no pretzels or crackers in the bathroom so I chewed the orange crayon. It didn't taste good but I couldn't spit it out. So I yelled, "Out, out!" My dad came from his Facebook surfing or whatever and picked the crayon out of my mouth. No biggie.

OUT! OUT! My wife started yelling, "THE BABY!" Sure enough, Emma's mouth was filled with chunks of orange crayon I'd got her to draw in the bathtub. As I pulled the crayon out of her mouth she nipped at me with her teeth. My wife said, "You can't trust the baby." Would you trust a baby? She didn't swallow the crayon.