Empty
I would post an entry tonight, but I have absolutely nothing interesting to say.
That means this post should end, right? Or not even exist.
I thought I was having pregnancy insomnia last night. I was totally pissed that my dad wouldn’t shut the damned door, since a snow storm was blowing right in the living room.
Then I woke up and discovered I had no covers on. At least I wasn’t having insomnia.
How about a picture of my son?
This is why I should pay more attention to him and less attention to the computer. At least the markers were washable, but he had a tantrum when I cleaned it off because he wanted to be Rudolph. I guess the Pink Faced Reindeer instead of the Red Nosed Reindeer? He has been insisting that his new name is Rudolph. My new name is Turkey Poop. When I protest I’m told “You’ll get used to it.”
I recorded Rudolph a few weeks ago and he wouldn’t even watch it the first time. The dad, coach and Santa were all scary jerks and I didn’t blame him for not wanting to see them be mean to Rudolph. I don’t know what changed, but suddenly he was requesting it. He watched it while sitting on my lap one day and we talked about each thing that was happening. Since then he has been requesting it all the time and watching it at least once a day. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. The social lessons from the 1960s are not exactly the same lessons we give today, though I guess in the end being a misfit was a good thing.
Antropologa said,
December 16, 2009 @ 6:15 am
“You’ll get used to it”–OMIGOD HILARIOUS.