Children run the show
I don’t know how to raise children. That’s OK, because I don’t have any.
But as I look at my friends, who once danced around to ’80s music with me in striped ensembles or cruised around to Bone Thugs N’Harmony with a new license to drive, I wonder how these people can suddenly know how to raise children.
I’ve concluded that they don’t. When they tell their little tike “no,no,” it’s to no avail. The babies run the show.
My friends Laura and TJ are great parents. Baby Haley has them trained. Now, whenever one of us adults shares good news, Laura claps her hands together and opens her mouth in exaggerated happiness. No one has called her attention to this yet. And the other day, as a greeting, she came up and tickled my stomach, making growling noises. I’m not saying I didn’t giggle or squeal, but that’s usually reserved for saying hello to people under the age of 2.
Brett and Julie have also changed since the birth of their daughter, Emma. Julie now carries a bag equipped with cereal, fruit, wooden spoons of all sizes, portable changing tables and collapsable furniture. Her husband’s newfound appreciation for physics requires that he tests the gravitational pull at any number of locations, throwing Emma up in the air and timing her descent back to his arms.
In an effort to understand raising children, it’s necessary to go back to the true experts. Check out this clip, and this time, we get a taste for what not to do. And we might just pick up a few fashion tips along the way.
i can’t deny any of that
ahhh good ol’ Bone Thugs… that sure does take me back…
cute post!
I’m looking forward to watching cartoons again when Haley’s old enough. Lets just hope she’s not into Yu Gi oh or any of that weird Japanese stuff. No offense to all my Japanese brothers out there.
I miss my daily quepash! when you gonna write again?
I can’t wait to buy your book someday.
for real, how does this happen? I’ve always wondered the same thing…which I why I’ll probably be that mom, negligently sitting around in her leather pants, drinking a mojito, while my fourt year old overdoses on a bottle of flintstone viatmins….actually, come to think of it, I was that four year old…actually I was five when my mom found that empty bottle of vitamins in my drawyer. Hey, what can I say, I was a little health nut back in the day, too!