Yesterday, around 5:50pm, I’m sitting on the couch in my apartment lobby, on my phone:
Doorman: “Let me guess– your nanny gets off at 6?”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Doorman: “I’ve noticed you usually get home around 5:30 and then sit on the lobby couch until about 5:58.”
Me (laughing): “Ok, I know what you’re implying– but I’m not avoiding my kid! It’s just that I have work emails to send, and I’m better off doing it now rather than trying to do it in the apartment. Too many distractions. Nothing ever gets done.”
Doorman: “I see.”
Me: “It’s actually annoying to have to send all these emails, because honestly I just want to go up there right away and squeeze her.”
Doorman: “Well, don’t let me interrupt. Get back to that email.”
Me: “Thank you.”
My phone screen:
— Nora, when she sees wine.
A bunch of kids are gathered around the chalkboard at the kiddie gym, almost all of them with a snack:
Random Mom (to me): “How do you get your kid to eat so nicely and calmly? She’s like a tiny well-mannered adult!”
Me: “Oh, that’s nice of you to say! Um, I don’t know, I guess I just got lucky?”
Random Mom: “I just can’t believe she’s able to eat those blackberries without making ANY mess on her face.”
Me: “Oh. That’s actually not my kid…”
Random Mom: “Oh! Which one’s yours again? The kid with the cheerios in her hand?”
Random Mom: “Her? With the cheerios in the cup?”
Random Mom (sees no other choice): “With the cheerios stuck to her neck?”
(10 second silence)
Random Mom: “Are those even her cheerios?”
Random: “They’re in her hair too…”
Me: “I see that.”
Random: “How’d she even get them?”
Me: “Hard to say…”
Steph went to retrieve my nephew after his nap, and encountered him with poop all over his hands. Seems he woke up early, got bored, and found a way to entertain himself.
Kid is nothing if not resourceful.
(After Steph sends photo….)
“If you poop on the potty, I’ll make you a martini.”
— Big Steve, helping to potty train The Boog
In reference to Eric’s 2-year-old niece Mackenzie (“Mac”) and my 2-year-old nephew Tyler (“The Boog”) walking down the aisle….
Calming my wedding day anxieties….
“Now what am I going to do?!”
— Eric, just now, with genuine fear and disappointment in his eyes, seconds after The Boog left their play date to go home and take a nap.
“It’s pussy! It’s pussy! It’s pussy! IT’S PUSSY! Auntie Em, it’s PUSSY!”
— my 2-year-old nephew.