Right after Snookums was born, I started calling her "The 6 pound, 5 ounce CEO." And it's only gotten more like that.
I used to laugh at parents who were controlled by their kids. How can something that weighs 100 pounds less than you boss you around? I thought.
Oh, the irony.
I am completely in the thrall of Snookums, The 18.8 Pound CEO. Whatever she says, goes. Because she wouldn't have it any other way.
Time to change her diaper? Nope. Time to flip over on her stomach. Or stand up and start dancing. Or -- if the diaper is full of crap -- to wait until I take it off, then sit down so it smears all over everything.
Time to get in the high chair? NO!!! Time to arch her back in protest and scream. And when she arches her back, there's no way, short of breaking it, I can get her to bend. (Tickling her used to work, but she got wise to that pretty fast.)
Babies don't fight fair. No Marquess of Queensbury Rules for them, no sirree! Or Robert's Rules of Order for that matter. Parliamentary procedure goes out the window as they pinch, scratch and gouge their way to victory.
Which is why, if Snookums and Mike Tyson got in a fight, Snookums would win.
Even if she lost part of her ear.
3 comments:
Well with a face like that, who wouldn't melt into submission?? Like the victorious smile in the picture!
Um, sometimes Dash (my 6yr old) will be like, let's try this shortcut, and I'm like, "Ok, whatevs." Then we don't get home for another hour, but again, whatevs. The world would be WAY crazier if kids were in charge for real.
Yay -- Nanny G. visited my blog! Thanks for stopping by!
Imagine if kids were in charge of mealtime: ICE CREAM FOH EVAH!!!!
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