Auntie Rebecca and I got to spend several hours with Luke yesterday while Ashley and JD went downtown for a bit of an anniversary celebration (happy five years, y’all!). We halfway expected to be wading in poop and spit-up by the end of the day — and were even warned to bring an extra shirt just in case — but I swear, that kid (once he woke up and got over his initial where-are-my-parents-and-who-are-you-weird-looking-brunettes? hissy fit) was on his best behavior, and just kinda hung out and watched crap TV with us, bouncing in his jumper and laughing at the punchlines of My Gym Partner is a Monkey, this weird little cartoon on Cartoon Network.
We think maybe he was baiting us, and the next time we babysit, he’ll be a snotty, pooping terror. But I dunno. Looking at those big blue eyes, it’s hard to think he has it in him. (Somewhere there are droves of parents cackling at my childfree naivety.)
I can take the pain! Haha, it was fun and he’s a happy camper.
I know, right? It makes me pregnant just thinking about how sweet he was.
woah…woah…woah…woah……….woah……………woah………………………………………………..woah. You can get pregnant just by thinking about babies??? Shit.
It’s true, LP. I’m on my eighteenth pregnancy this year.
I have no knowledge base for this concept. Yeah, I watched him. He’s cute and has some great expressions but … pregnant?
Um, surveying the ovaries. Yep, don’t get that.
Why is poop the grossest thing ever, yet “pooping” is such a funny word?