So what exactly am I talking about? Well, you know that thing when your loved one gets up in the morning to prepare you a freshly squeezed OJ, because you think that's what you want, but when you actually get it you realize that it's the absolutely last thing on earth that you could possibly imagine having ever wanted and all you can do is kick and scream out of frustration...? Thought so. Sometimes it’s the little things in life, you know?
And how about this for utterly shocking things I have to put up with: Wearing slippers, wearing diapers, wearing neck warmers, wearing jackets, wearing just about anything except for shoes (which I love), having breakfast, having dinner, having dinner whilst watching Peppa Pig when I actually wanted to watch Nemo, having anything other than rice crackers and Ella's fruit bags, not being allowed to chase the dog with my bobby car, having to not hug the dog, not being allowed to ride the dog (really, I CAN do it), having to brush my teeth, not being allowed to eat the toothpaste, having a shower, having to get out of the shower… Now I could go on, but I really don't want to risk boring you and I think it’s obvious to anyone with half a brain that the cards have been stacked against me. God, I wonder how the Donald must be feeling...?
But you know, it's not ALL bad news. These feelings of frustration and disappointment basically only come to surface when I'm with Mommy. Because the thing is, I'm not stupid. At the nursery, there's competition for the teachers' attention and so being cute and charming is key to land in the best teacher's lap and get the most cuddles. At home though, Mommy is kind of stuck with me, so I can boss her around like that devil woman wearing Prada and I'll STILL land in her lap and I’ll STILL get my cuddles! So it's kind of a win-win! For me that is. For Mommy it's a whole different ball game. But who asked her to have kids in the first place? If she had wanted blind obedience and complete submission, she should have stuck to the dog.
And she definitely should have given this baby thing some extra thought given Daddy's childhood hell raising track background and her own Latina temperament. With that background, who can blame me for a little caramba and feet stomping? I'm 25% Colombian hot blood, 50% German resoluteness and 100% toddler pigheadedness...