Soft toys are good

Boys throw things.

Consider it good practice to becoming the star quarterback every father dreams their son will become. However, given the husband and I's genetics, Tyler will probably end up a beefy, sweaty middle linebacker. Sorry kid, an underwear model you won't be. But that's another post...

Boys throw, fling, toss, chuck, hurl, pitch, heave, lob, cast, and wing an assortment of items. Even things that aren't suppose to be thrown.

I can remember my sister telling the story of my oldest nephew winging a wooden toy train four pews up and beaning some little old church lady in the back of the head right in the middle of the pastor's sermon. And when the little old lady turned around to identify the culprit, my sister took the blame like an adult. Me, I would have displayed my astonishment face, thumbed behind me and kinda shrugged. No sense causing a scene in church, who knows what church ladies carry in their large handbags.

Tyler, for a 2yr old boy, has a pretty good arm (mental note: no wooden trains in church). He'll wind up, arm back above his head his left leg hiked up to his chest, stomp down and grunt as he throws the ball hurtling it across the room. To him, this is awesome.

He has also started throwing temper tantrums. Mind you, these aren't the first, and they certainly won't be the last. But they are the first that involve throwing object to display his frustration.

So his frustration with mommy saying "no" coupled with his mutant he-man arm, sends me diving for cover behind the sofa.

The husband, however just sits on the couch, unfazed, with a gleam in his eye daydreaming about his son, the starting pitcher for the Cleveland Indians, as a plastic squeaky ball bounces off his forehead.

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Forward Friday

Thought I'd start something new and see if it sticks. Every Friday I'll post a forward that I find funny just to share. I realize it's not Friday, but this week it's "like" Friday...so there!

I get forwards all.the.time. Usually they're pretty lame...

"If you pass this along to 50 of your friends and make a wish, it'll come true by midnight the Tuesday after the next full moon."

I wish for an Italian swimsuit model to clean my kitchen, do my laundry, wait on me hand and foot and feed me strawberries in bed every night. You gonna make THAT happen? I'm throwing the bullshit flag.

OR

"I'm sending you this forward to tell you how special you are to me, and here let me put a few cutesy pictures of puppies and kittens just to make this forward even more gag worthy."

My true friends know that I really show them I care by not forwarding this crap. The buck stops here, cowboy.

However, every once in a while I get one that's pretty funny, and sadly mirrors my own life.

In this example, it's not me but the husband that wants a riding mower.

Do you think he'd go for this? I could probably find a spare bike on Craigslist...

The Riding Lawn Mower

My wife always wanted a riding lawn mower.

She works all day and was always tired when she came home from work and thought that a riding lawn mower would help her get the yard work done quicker so she would have more time for the chores inside the house.

SO, being the handy sort of guy that I am, I made her a riding lawn mower.

I guess I thought she would squeal with delight or something and give me a big hug.

To this day I have never been able to understand why some women are so hard to please...

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How do I look?

I routinely do stupid and embarrassing things.

Usually because I operate on autopilot most days. Moving around, with a zombie like focus (minus the death and destruction), conducting various mundane tasks, distracted by my own "deep" random thoughts.

I've driven right past the turn to the sitters, stopped at the stop light, waited, made the right turn, driven down my street, parked in my driveway, exited my vehicle, unlocked my front door, set my stuff down on the hall table, only to then realize I forgot to pick up Tyler. I've done this at least a dozen times. [mental head slap]

I've shrunk more of the husband's t-shirts than I'd care to admit because I am completely incapable of multi-tasking while doing laundry.

I've worn my underwear inside out. all day. without even noticing.

I've blamed messes on the cats because I don't want to admit I'm the one who knocked over the cat food container with my graceful wide sweeping backhand while practicing my cheerleading moves.

I've absently substituted a tablespoon of salt for a teaspoon of salt in an apple cobbler recipe because I was too busy singing to the radio.

I've been caught red handed butt dancing to the Backyardigans theme song. What can I say, it's catchy. [shrugs]

At least once a week I forget to put a second earring in, I can rock the Mr. Clean look.

If I get a phone call while fixing dinner, just go ahead and order pizza right then. Because talking while cooking is not a set of skills I possess. I'm serious, people. I've burnt pudding before.

I once managed to get flour on the 10ft high ceilings in the kitchen of my childhood home, while baking a cake. I still scratch my head over this one.

I wore a new shirt one day without remembering to remove the size sticker, oh so conveniently positioned over my left nipple. It was like I was wearing a flashing sign announcing that I shop in the women's department. [whimper]

Ok....so that list is longer than I thought it would be.

Please excuse me while I drown my embarrassment in a 1/2 gallon of strawberry cheescake ice cream.

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