Maybe tomorrow I'll have the stomach to tell you about the worst, most disgusting bomb in history. Let's just say, Bear left his sister's double delish baby shower to change Miss Rio - and he never came back.
And when I went to recon (what *is* the proper little word? oh, my brain is soooo gone) she was lying in the back of the wagon on a moving blanket, she had nothing on - not even socks, and she was smiling and her daddy was gagging and sweating and shoving all her clothes into plastic bags.
Yeah, I didn't think you'd want to talk about it.
So, anyway ... gorked.
All the way home yesterday afternoon, the smelliest baby in all the land was, well, a pill. Uncoated. Not tasty. She threw things. She said bad words. She cackled like the possessed. She pulled my hair through the headrest with her toes!!!
So by the time the 2 hour ride home had passed we were ready for Uncle Jim's SuperDelish Kool Aid. We finally got her fed, bathed, rebathed, annointed and ready for bed. She didn't look nearly tired enough so I decided we couldn't run the risk of her super bad cold returning so ... I gorked her. Go ahead, judge. But first, let your little angel call you 'otherfuckermay' as only a 2 year old can grasp bad pig latin, and have her call you that with your hair being pulled out at the root by her otherfuckingmay toes! Gorked.
She slept sooooo much, that she got up super early and now won't nap. Or get out of her crib. She's bouncing up and down, singing 'Looooook aaaaat meeeeee!' and she has about 20 animals assembled as an audience and I have started to fear that kid. I go in and say, "Want to get up and play?" and she makes a noise like a rabid dog and screams, "Everyyyyyyyyybodyyyyyyyy move your feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet! Uuuuuuuuuuuse yourrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr hannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnds!" and ignores me.
What the uckfay?