My Husband Escaped From the Circus

As a mom, I spend most of my day trying to entertain and/or redirect my child’s attention from whatever it was that caused a complete and total meltdown.

Be it the dropped sippy cup that suddenly meant the world to him as soon as it hit the floor for the 20th time.   Ohmygodohmygod where’d it go, just give it back. I promise I’ll never throw it again.  Hey, thanks ma…I threw it again. 

Or the dog who won’t look in his direction despite his repeated howler monkey squeals of love and affection.  DOOOOOOOG, look at me,look at me, look at me! Dog, dog, dog,…she looked at me!!!  She’s not looking at me. 

Or maybe because I took away my shoe after he licked it. Again. Mommy I love you so much I lick your shoe. I licked it again Mommy. Mommy, I licked it.

Whatever it is, I’ve found pretty weird ways to redirect his cute little ADHD riddled baby brain for 3.5 seconds beyond the usual go-to singing,toys and brain rotting television. I know, gasp…I’m such a bad parent. You know what Judgey McMommy-Terrorist, I eat breakfast without grubby, smelly, slimy hands in my oatmeal thanks to the masterminds behind Super Why.  I like my oatmeal sans-spit up covered hands and am campaigning to get Super Why nominated for an Oscar in every single category.  Start writing your acceptance speech Princess Presto.

Move over Meryl Streep. There's a new bitch in town.

Please feel free to use these tidbits of baby entertainment, just be sure to attribute them to me each time you do:

The ceiling fan.  The Kid loves the ceiling fan. Laughs hysterically at it. At first, I was slightly worried he was a few tacos short a fiesta, but luckily Dr. Google saved me from nights of worry that my kid was a bona fide head case. Ceiling fans are the Will Ferrell of the baby world. Anchorman Will Ferrell not crap Bewitched Will Ferrell. Seriously. What the eff Will? Stick to your roots bro. More cowbell, less Nicole Kidman.  

Daddy’s juggling.  I’ve known this man for 10 years and had no idea he could juggle.  The Kid sat for 15 minutes memorized by dad juggling his toys.  Why have I just learned of this talent? What is he trying to hide? To do: learn how to juggle, google husband’s name with “escaped from the circus”.

Sneezing. The Kid thinks sneezes are comedic genius. That or he is evil and is laughing at me for having seasonal allergies.  Laugh it up kid, hay fever is certainly not funny and allergies are hereditary...won’t be so funny then bud.

Telling him he stinks. You know that quintessential mom moment that women dream about--smelling the tops of their babies heads? Yeah, that lasts for about a month.  Then they stink.  The Kid smells like a mix of sour milk and a locker full of jock straps by bath time.  Sour milk I get.  Jock straps? That one baffles me. Why does my inmobile, non-shoe wearing baby have feet that smell like an NFL locker room after halftime? I grab his stinky little feet and say pee-yeew you stink. And he loves it. This makes me extremely nervous when he is an even smellier teenager.

I’m wondering how much longer I have these gems in my arsenal. How sad the day my sneezes no longer sends The Kid into pee-his-diaper hysterics. Ahh..they grow up so fast.