T.G.I.F. it...

If you will recall a post I did some time ago, 6 Day Work Week and Jar-Jar Binks, you will know that my full time job requires me to work six days a week and Sunday being my only day off...kind of like God but not as creative.  "And on the seventh day he res...did chores around the house."

So when people say T.G.I.F. or Hooray Weekend! on the radio or on Facebook I want to extend my arm, pull it back slightly and smack them upside the cranium and for those of you that have three day weekends...kiss my hairy, white, left ass cheek and make the right one jealous.  I choose this path of working six days a week back in 1994 so it was my own grave I dug.

Anyway, it was a fairly normal morning in the household.  The sad thing is each morning is like Ground Hog's Day, it's the same thing over and over and over, except the variation of what each of the three Minions do.  Let me walk you through this morning (and pretty much every morning).

Ah, my Minions.

#3

It starts with the rhythmic knock, knock, knocking on #3's door.  He can open doors no problem but for some reason he cannot open his bedroom door so he knocks....and knocks....and knocks until someone lets him out.  He is potty training so my wife jumps out of bed and opens the door for him, they rush into the bathroom where you hear a deafening fart from my little two year old.  If this country runs low on natural gas just shove a pipeline up #3's ass and we will be supplied for years.


I wait for the bathroom to clear out before I go through my morning ritual, which I have already told you about in the past here.  After my morning ritual is done, #1 and #2 usually appear in that order.

#1

 #1 is old enough to start making his breakfast...I used the word start because inevitably he forgets about it and gets involved in something else, like this morning.  He came down, we exchanged pleasantries of Good Morning and he proceeded to put some bread in the toaster oven.  My wife comes over after the, now toast, has been sitting there for several minutes and asks whose toast this is, knowing full well whose it is.  After three kids her mind has become that of an 85 year old, it's one of the side effects I've been told.  #1 looks at her confused at this point and then quickly realizes it was his toast, he gets it, butters/schmeres/jellies it and then promptly complains because it is cold and hard.  #1 is also known as Captain Obvious.

#2

#2 bounds down the stairs looking like he is ready for class with Professor Snape at Hogwarts.  He is wearing his Harry Potter glasses, wearing his Gryffindor robes and carrying The Prisoner of Azkaban.  #2 is only 5 years old but reads chapter books....Harry Potter chapter books.  This scares the shit out of my wife and me 1.  because he will start thinking he can be a wizard and we'll end up taking him to the ER with a broken bone from playing Quidditch and 2.  he is smar...book smart, beyond his years.  He finds his place at the breakfast counter and waits for breakfast.

#3 climbs into his chair complete with booster seat and starts his chant of mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy.  My wife has the uncanny ability to tune this out but yet it makes my eye twitch and I snap saying something I will quickly regret like, "Seeing your mom is ignoring you, what can I do for you?"  Oops....

Vampires don't sparkle!

I am out the door thinking it's not so bad working six days a week and thank the maker for my wife and her um, patience...

I usually check my email and stuff online once I get to the area I am working and the first thing that hits me is the cover of Time magazine with some woman shoving her tit into a 5 year old's mouth.  Ahhhh, gotcha, that's how my Friday is going to go huh?  I'm sure EVERYONE has seen this cover by now and I rarely get caught up in shock factors, but here it is in case you haven't seen it.

Should I be grossed out or slightly turned on?

First thing I saw was the kid, not the boob, the kid.  What the fajita?  Seriously?  The kid is three years, that shit should have stopped long ago.  The second thing I noticed (and I already had this blog in the shoot before I read PIWTPITT so I am not copying her) but this is not what I would expect to see when I hear about some sort of tree hugging parenting like this.  She is fairly attractive, what I would picture would be a deadlocked, granola eating, Subaru driving, tofu farting hippie from Vermont.  I have not read the article, nor will I read the article but it seems to me that, and this is from a Dad point of view, if you raise your kid this way, called attachment parenting, it would seem that he or she would be the subject of some serious ass kickings in school.  Does this way of parenting continue until they are 18?  I am not going to continue on this rant but what the hell are some people thinking?

I don't know about you but I was looking at boobs slightly differently by the time I turned 13, just saying....

Mmmmm boobies.