The gun show

I thought golf was the worst thing on TV. I stand corrected. It's PBA bowling on ESPN. May I just add I never signed up to watch PBA bowling? I signed up for poopy diapers, loud annoying toys that sing loud annoying songs, and to be idolized as the greatest person this side of the world. You know. Run of the mill parenting kind of stuff. I know the state of mind my three year old has been in with regards to bowling. The obsessive kind. So I'm not surprised when he saw it on TV that he was instantly enamored with it. I took the opportunity to flex my selfless parenting muscle. The one that's more mature then my three year old's and wants to watch something as pointless as PBA bowling. He's young, in time I'm sure he'll realize the show I wanted to catch up on, while we all lay sick in my bed, was much better. The Bachelor can teach all kinds of lessons PBA bowling only dreams of. Like how real men go to therapy, it's OK to date lots of girls at once, and if you don't play nice with others (MICHELLE!) you won't get picked in the end. All very important life lessons. That selfless parenting muscle of mine is getting worked over here. Sometimes, when no one is looking, I check it out in the mirror. Welcome to the gun show.

Still thinking about it...

I dropped Brynner's tennis ball in the church toilet on Sunday. Lovely. See, some time between trying (the operative word) to hold his collection of stuff and holding him up on the sink and getting the soap and drying his hands... it slipped. One bounce and into the toilet it went as I watched helplessly over my shoulder. I seriously considered leaving it there for half a second, then realized some kid would probably have a heart attack and die. So, I did the one thousand and forty fifth gross thing since becoming a parent, reached in and retrieved it-soggy and dripping. Thew it in the trash, did my grossed out dance (that involves a lot of head shaking and running in place in case you wanted a visual-you're welcome), and washed my hands three times for good measure. Because I was so sneaky Brynn had completely forgotten tennis balls even existed. Me? I can't seem to forget. Quick! Someone squeeze lemon juice in my eye!