- sigh* Aimee's in SF so now I'm bored.
Well, not bored. Chasing Emeline is time-consuming exercise that does take concentration. (Dude, thank you Title 9. Baby is gonna be a helluva running back. If she wants. No pressure. She could also kill for money, whatever makes her happy.)
Anyway, she now likes to pull DVDs out of the entertainment center and demand I play whatever "Moobie" she wants. Oddly, she has chosen none of the Kevin Smith DVDs.
Yesterday we watched some horrific Care Bears movie a "friend" gave to us for Emeline because said "friend" thought she might enjoy it. In actuality said "friend" is EVIL and just wanted to know that at some point I was balancing my child's happiness vs. the need to drive a steak knife into my own eyes.
But then, lo to my delight, Em chose "The Last Boy Scout" so my mind and soul were cleansed by an hour and a half of good, decent foul language and gratuitous violence involving Bruce Willis and Damon Wayans.
Today she chose "Batman Begins". I now have the urge to roam the rooftops of Los Angeles dressed in black body armor and fight crime or avenge the wronged or just generally kick the shit out of people that society-at-large accepts are worthy to have the shit kicked out of. Which is difficult because Aimee's in SF and Em's too big for the baby-sling-thing whatever it's called. Something Nordic.
Oh, great. She just handed me Eddie Izzard "Dressed to Kill".
My child is already so messed in the mind.
You have pretty high ceilings, right? Would it be possible to put shelves up higher than normal, like around the border of the ceilings, maybe a foot down, for books and things, and Hec can get up on a chair when they're needed?
Hi Aimee! Uh. All is well. Ignore the above post, Ha. Ha. Ha. Just joking.
(Crap, Emeline just set the cat on fire and is waving the gun around while swigging out of a bottle of rum. Just a sec...)
We're fine here. Just fine. Everything is good. We're, uh...(run, Ollie! She's got the big knife!) We're fine...here...uh...how are you?
(Boring conversation anyway.)
It's ok.
I'll just be heading out soon for even more redheaded sluts.
Neener.
If she wants. No pressure. She could also kill for money, whatever makes her happy.
Such the supportive dad! Can she take over the world?
Such the supportive dad! Can she take over the world?
Well, yes, naturally. It's a tradition to pass the family business on to one's heirs, isn't it?
In fact, why stop at the world?
"Someday, Punkin-butt, all this will be yours. Yes, the Moon, too. Yes, and Mars. No, nobody wants Pluto, it's not a planet anymore. Yes, 'Xena', sure."
Suzi! I'm all a-squee! Much kidney~ma for your mum.
iI just don't see how it's doable, at least not without boxing up pretty much all the rest of our books and putting them into storage until the eventual move to the East Bay.
We had to draw up sketches and measure things carefully.
Our bedroom is 10x10, and has one of the two closets in the house (door), plus is open to the unheated room that used to be porch (other door), and contains a wall register for heating, so we had to (for the duration of crib-in-roomness) get rid of our bedside tables (stored in basement).
It's like Tetris with furniture.
You may want to look into the slightly-smaller portable crib option, too.
Or just do what we're doing, and co-sleep, but we're co-sleeping by accident, and I can't say I suggest it as a lifestyle choice no matter WHAT Doctor Fucking Sears says, because if you thought cats could take up space, wait until you see what a toddler can do, oy, and hello? My desire to have intimate relations DID, in fact, eventually reappear after being AWOL for about a year and a half, and I'd like my bed back, please.
Hmm. Got editorial there, I fear.
Are you planning on eventually doubling her and Emmett up?
