…would be the name of the show Husband and I would star in; my parents could be in the spin-off “extreme grandparenting.”
Another dad at day care said raising a child is harder than being in the navy or being a lawyer, two things he has under the belt. Makes me feel better whenever I have to wrestle the ramrod straight-with-anger body of First Son into the stroller.
First Son has entered the terrible twos. He is both a delight and a pain in the arse. A lot of wailing and flailing and mom-only demands (a recent trip to the local supermarket may have turned ALL of my hair white. The local place is more a bodega-style mart with narrow aisles and big dudes wheeling around five heavy boxes of produce. Awesome.), but also is speaking, singing, asking the twins for a high-five, breaking out into a sprint whenever possible.
I’ve told all three kids that I would accept gift certificates of fifty dollars for Mother’s Day, or I could start invoicing them per diaper change, then we could be even. Thank you.