"She's a natural, isn't she?" my mom beamed proudly in my direction, as I held my baby on my lap at the dinner table, slipping a saliva soaked strand of my hair out of his mouth, while he sucked his thumb and mumbled something that sounded like, "Oy, oy, oy."
"I knew she would be," my dad responded, "the way she always took care of Snoopy," he finished, dead seriously, with pride in his glistening blue eyes.
Snoopy.
If only I could just throw a leather jacket and some aviator shades on my 8 month old son and put the TV remote control under his "paw" and tell him, "Watch whatever you want and have a great day," motherhood would be soooooooo easy.
Oy, oy, oy.
No comments:
Post a Comment