This morning you lay on the floor of your sewing room for an hour so I could sleep on you. This was after I peed in my crib, your lap, and your bed in three separate incidents within twenty four hours.
So you can blog all you want about how you’re not going to work at being a superstar parent. I determine the level of effort it is necessary to put forth around here, not you. I’ve got you wrapped around my tiny little grubby finger and we both know it.
Now where’s my banana?
a.k.a. The Little Master
p.s. Wait until my needs are more complex and my behavior more calculated. Then we’ll see how far your insouciance gets you.