Rough Day #TBT - Poor Kid

Originally Written Saturday, June 25, 2005

Rough Day!

So today while contemplating just where I would go on my first vacation my Mom and Dad starting talking about going bye-bye. Yippee..I love bye-bye. I run and get my sandels. Sitting down on my Wiggle couch I wait for mom to help me put them on. Mom comes over and starts putting socks on my feet which always means sneakers. Why the sneakers? Does my footwear preference mean nothing to her? She finishes doing that loopy do thing she does with sneakers and I run to the back door. She says, "No baby, we are going in the car." God damn I never get it right I run to the front door she says we are going on the deck I run to the back door she says car I can't win. Remind me never to gamble.

Daddy takes my hand and we head down the stairs. I start down the steps and Dad starts his counting. I will never understand the relentless counting. How many times does he go down those stairs a day. Dude, it's five steps. Just do it. Maybe he has OCD. I feel kind of bad for the old man. Maybe next time I count them for him.

Mom carries the loud, pink bundle they call Goddess. Where are we going? The park, Aunt Teresa's, Mom and Tot Group? No! We end up at Babies are Us. Daddy picks me up because I tried to walk over to these really cool shades I wanted to check out. I try to explain that I am just going to try on some sunglasses and I'll catch up to him and mom later. It's a no go.

He walks with mom over to the women who takes our money and we are out the door. Mom puts Goddess in her car seat and Dad puts me in mine. We start on our way home and the bundle of hair sitting next to me starts wailing. Dad catches my eyes in the mirror. He says, "Pooh, you look like someone pooped in your lunch or someone stole your pony" or some other ridiculous statement that is no longer cute.

You think Dad!? Do you think I look pissed!? Babies R friggin us? Give me a break old man. I spend the rest of the ride listening to my Dad make up words to songs, mom is reading a magazine and my sister is screaming her head off.

I can't wait to get home and take a nap.

My head is killing me. Lord give me strength!