here’s my impression of my son:
Brandon – “You think you’re finished feeding me for now? You think your nipples are going to get a moment to themselves to heal? You think this is a game?”
Brandon – “I see you’ve just changed my diaper. It would be a shame if someone were to rapid fire doo-doo inside of the new diaper that’s been on my ass for 2.2 seconds.”
Brandon – “Oh, it’s bath time, is it? I disagree. Because while you’re lowering me into that bath water you so carefully tempered to my liking, I’m gonna drop a massive, soupy deuce right in there. Like, directly in there. Now, clean it up damn you.”
Brandon – “I see you’ve just finished bathing me. It would be a shame if someone were to shit on themselves, getting shit all over, including shit right in the palm of your hand, and now you have to bathe me all over again. Oh, and don’t forget to swirl the shit covered towel in the toilet with your bare hands.”
Brandon- “So. You’d like to do your hair, huh? Well, I hate to tell you this but, you work for me now. And as my employee, if you are not at my beck and call every second that I am conscious, I am going to scream bloody goddamn murder and make the other people in this apartment complex consider calling DCFS on you. And, you’ll NEVER leave me in a room alone without having visions of me rolling myself up over the edge of my crib. Or worse things. All because you just HAD to do your hair.
Brandon – “Yeah, I’m taking a nap. But i’m not so much a peacefully sleeping baby as i am a TICKING TIME BOMB, and you’ll never know what tiny innocuous sound is going to disturb my slumber, SETTING ME RIGHT THE HELL OFF.