- His schedule runs our lives, and we can only go somewhere if it fits in with his nap, eat, play schedule. Except there is no schedule. PSYCH.
2. My hair, fingers, and clothes exist for his chewing pleasure.
3. If I sternly say “No” and furrow my eyebrows, it’s completely hilarious to him because we both know who really calls the shots.
4. He is held in comfortable arms and carried around the house 75% of the day so that he can get a birds eye view of all the happenings and decide if he approves of how we’re running the house. For example, 6pm is not the time for dinner, declares he. 6pm is the time for alternate fussing to be put down, fussing to be picked up, fussing at his own fussing, and fussing that I am fussing over him fussing.
5. Every night I carry his majesty to his personal Jacuzzi with the water temperature exactly to his liking, and gently pour water over him while he lounges.
6. When he is done marinating, I wrap him in a towel and carry him into his room, where I cover him all over with lotion, sing him songs, and kiss his head while he screams at me because I’m not going fast enough and his royal tush is cold.
7. He is in charge of decorating the house that I pay for with a shocking motif of spit up, pee, and Sophie the Giraffe.
8. When it’s getting too peaceful and quiet in the house he kicks a little piano which plays the most awe-inspiring rendition of a song you’ve never heard but definitely know.
9. Forget traditional methods of communication, he just yells indecipherably at me. HOWL. Diaper change. BANSHEE SCREECH. Pat his back. SOUND THAT COULD BE A LAUGH OR A CRY. Pick him up?
10. I dote on him every second because he is absolutely the cutest thing in the whole world and I’m obsessed with him and he is the sweetest kindest little chill baby and kiss his cheeks 900 times a day and he’s perfect.