A brief first person narrative as told by my four month old son
I’m not hungry. Good. My butt is dry. Better. I’m warm. Life is good. Cool, nothing to do but hang out and try to figure out why this starfish isn’t lighting up. Come on, light up . . . light up . . . light up or I’ll cry . . . li . . . oh, there you are. Woohoo. Happy day. Seems to light up whenever I kick those things on my . . . ooh, there’s dad. If I smile, he’ll be happy. See, he smiled back. Chump. What’s he doing? Hmm, at the fridge . . . getting a beer. Wait for it. He’s making his way to the couch. Wait for it. He has the remote . . . patience, it’s too soon. He turned on High Stakes Poker on the TeeVee . . . wait for it. He’s got his feet propped up. This is gonna be good. He’s touching the beer to his lips. Ok, now:
WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!
Sucker.
September 6th, 2006 at 8:30 am
haha
September 6th, 2006 at 9:33 am
[…] UPDATE: But then there are examples like this that snap me out of those moods. […]
September 6th, 2006 at 11:32 am
As the tyke progresses in his skills, he will learn to make beer come out your nose.
September 6th, 2006 at 12:00 pm
When the little guy shows any eagerness to get that beer for you, aim it straight at him when you open it.