mama

Sorry for the long radio silence! It's been one of those months. Ryan and I had family in town and we took advantage of them to jet off for a 2-day break to New York to see Hamilton and so many people we love. What I mean to say is sorry you've been desperately bored but I've been cavorting sans toddlers in the city that never sleeps.

Now read my blog post and tell me it's funny.

Buster is wicked cute.

He's 20 months old and all curls and dimples and sweet dance moves and mushy baby words.

When you ask him to give you a kiss he ever-so-gently rubs his forehead against yours, because that's what he has seen Chicken do. We call it a Tiger Kiss.

He coos, giggles, sings, babbles, barks, meows, and quacks - honestly, he's baby crack.

But there's one thing he does that is less than adorable.

I'm trying not to take it personally.

Lately, he's been pointing at illustrations in his books and saying, "mama!"

Sometimes it's sweet.

brown hair
eyelashes
friendly face
rosy cheeks
that could be the japanese cartoon face
of mother mary herself.
buster
has such insight.

Sometimes, though...

jesus
is that me
with the hair
of the bad guy from Doug?
and is that me
wearing a human liver on my mouth?
and is that me
screaming in german
or about to smack you in the face
with a slotted spoon?
is that who i am to you?

mama!

okay, pipe down dimples
that's enough out of you

YEAH.

I wish I could say that it's out of left field, but... I get it. That's probably pretty accurate, when the church bells toll the 4:30 Suck Pocket each day.

Here are a few more pictures that, apparently, look like me:

just because a person has
unnaturally short arms
doesn't mean you have to
you know
talk about it

is this because
you saw me nibble that cracker off the floor?
that was
one time,
buster.
and it wasn't a cracker
it was a vanilla oreo.
and i'm not a wizard.
and it had been a really long day.