Annoying Crap My Kids Do

Hey, how's everybody doing?

We're tired.

Yours truly and the artist-formerly-known-as-Preggosaurus get no sleep these days. Our newest addition is, by all accounts, nocturnal, and prefers to hang out at 2am instead of 2pm. This makes operating at full capacity during the daylight hours next to impossible, and that's when we have to be putting forth our 'A' game in order to handle the Cannonball's shenanigans.

Over the course of the last couple of weeks, since Kris pissed out our second child, Alayna's been one, giant hurricane of defiance and sass. Not directed to me, so much, but very much so to her Mom. I'm not sure if this is because Kris constantly has a life form attached to her breast or not. Who knows.

She openly defies orders, ignores warnings, and 'talks' back so frequently that 'time-outs' are becoming an almost hourly occurrence. Acting out in anger has become a problem, too. For example, Kris' cell phone was busted. We're not about to point fingers at who did it or anything, but it definitely wasn't Kris or myself. And I highly doubt Abby was able to destroy it, as she can't lift anything weighing more than a cotton ball. But we're not pointing fingers, here. Anyway, since niether Kris nor myself have gotten that publication deal for our Parenting 101: A Guide for Idiots Who Shouldn't Make Babies in the First Place book we've been compiling* yet, we're tackling toddler-wrangling on a day-to-day basis and awaiting that blessed day when Alayna and Abby are both out of the house and off to college.

September of 2028, baby. Start the countdown.

Now, if our days with Raffi taught us anything, its that there lies vast potential in the power of Television. Alayna has becomed obsessed with Yo Gabba Gabba, which is cat nip for two year olds. She loves it, and the DVDs we have of it are on constant rotation in the DVD player. Sure, I'd rather watch Yo Gabba Gabba than, say, Barney or the Unmentionable Sesame Street Character That Sabotaged Grover's Career, but its still a strain on one's sanity when one has to watch it on a daily basis.

Alas, for the time being, watching an episode of hip-hoppin' robots at 6am is way better than dealing with a toddler freak out at 6am.

Say what you will. Dad treasures his sanity.

- Brian

* = We're not writing this. That's a joke. We'd be the last people who should be writing a book like this.