Emcee at a Cock Fighting Tournament

At least once a day I am convinced that I am going to do something that will forever scar the minds of my young children. Chicken soup for breakfast? The Captain will obviously be the Emcee at cock-fighting tournaments. Lady Gaga on a loop while I clean the house? He will definitely insist on be hoisted around Brooklyn in an egg pod-or gay. The latter doesn’t bother me as long as he still PROVIDES ME WITH GRANDCHILDREN. I have priorities.

Too cute not to procreate.

Because I am so terrified of the “baby alive” dolls, will my daughter not learn to mother? Will my son not learn to avoid diaper duty? Nah…those dolls are freaking scary. I don’t care who you are. I was also not a fan of the baby Simba dolls from the 90’s that cooed and twisted its head back and forth. To me, it was one step from Regan in the “Exorcist” spewing pea soup and saying really bad things to a man of the cloth.

 

Anyways, I think it can go both ways. Today Elijah asked my girlfriend on Skype “if she was going on a run later, too!!” They match our patterns. He was genuinely excited when my friend said “yes. I am, are you?” He answered with a resounding “I run all the time. I log a lotta miles.” I couldn’t have been prouder if he said “My Mom hasn’t completely screwed me up yet.”

What characteristic of your parents do you most closely resemble?
-My mother’s guilt, obviously!!!

Better movie, “Exorcist” or “Repossessed”?
-Leslie Nielsen FOREVER!!!!

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