Ah, Joe. He tells the Boy this as he changes his diaper. Boy is very interested in his little tiny faintly-colored nipples. I think Amanda posted that she didn't quite understand nipples on men. Easy...human beings are from IKEA. We're modular like that. Things pop out or pull in, depending on gender. No matter if you are fan of evolution or intelligent design, you can't argue with the practicality of the human body.
"Meow-meow-meow-meow---Who let the cat out? Meow-meow-meow-meow-meow---Who let the cat out?"
Joe, too. Now the Boy sings it, but he's changed it. "Let the baby out!" he says proudly.
For those of you who wonder why I rarely post (uh, Alisha!), this might be why. The busyness of life is no match for these moments of pure inane joy at being alive. Only a toddler could glom onto Daddy's silliness repeatedly, and I'm enjoying it. Only too soon Boy will be rolling his eyes and dying when Daddy says something silly.
I, apparently, have less good luck. Coming home from pizza tonight, Joe was chasing him and Boy was having a blast, shrieking and laughing. Along comes Mama, trying to run (yes, trying, Joe laughs every time I run, which is rare, and for good reason), and I say "I'm gonna catch you" in my ha-ha-happy voice, which causes my boy to look up and back at me, then back down, where he totally biffs it on the sidewalk and begins to cry.
Until a vision of loveliness appears in the form of our young neighbor. "Milena!" Off he goes again, goose-egg on the forehead rising to heights most certainly above regular facial sea level.
So I slink off to the basement to type this post. We are living in the Toddler 'Hood. I am a happy resident...I've gotten out of the car in the Toddler 'Hood, and bought a house. I refuse to be one of those "egad, Terrible Twos" parents, driving through this 'Hood with the doors locked and the windows rolled up. The Toddler 'Hood, where the saggy pants sport diapers hanging out over the top, "Fiddle-I-Fee" blares from the boom boxes, and the hooptie on the street is that humongous Graco Cadillac stroller that looks like it belongs on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. Where the grass grows a little too tall because, oh my gosh, when do we have time to mow? (or in Joe's case, take a weed whacker to it).
Yep, that's my life right now. Inane, possibly politically incorrect and absolutely silly in the most vocational sort of way. There's a reason I love toddlers. So, please, check this space---I might actually have posted.