My toddler has discovered my computer ('puter, in G speak), and somehow keeps hitting buttons that make me have to restart this bad boy to even be able to type.
I think I'm in for it. I'm really, really in for it. This kid is not even two and can bring me to my technological knees.
We know he's smart. And if you know me, you know I'm not the kind to brag about my kid. In fact, I have a hard time talking about how intelligent he appears to be, because I don't want to be THAT mom.
And I will always counter my 'bragging' with the fact that he throws himself on the ground and screams at Old Navy, or colors all over the door, or bites me on a pretty regular basis. In fact, I've been calling him Damien (as in the Omen) on a pretty regular basis, and I probably should stop that, cause that's just really not a nice thing to call your kid.
He's a bit, um, rambunctious, but I just keep telling myself at least he's crazy and smart. I don't know how I'd do with crazy and DUMB (I would love him just the same, stop judging me!).
But I have to tell this story. G did something the other day that stopped his father and I dead in our tracks. We were at my husband's work, and one of his co-workers has a Rosie the Riveter sticker (you know, the lady showing her bicep) on her printer. The name 'Rosie' is printed on the sticker.
G walks up, points and says 'Wosie'.
I don't know if it was just some freaky coincidence, but all the same, we were dumbfounded.
Our little dictator. I have a feeling this one will keep us on our toes...