Pick Up

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Well. It’s official. Baby Rangirl, you’re failing your father before you even hit 4 years of age. We give you a new room to make way for your baby bro:

 

 (Courtesy of a coworker who feels there’s still hope amongst the Ranmans)

And what do you do? 

You leave wads of toys on the floor like some 20 year old snob who won’t clean their IKEA-furnished apartment. I mean. You’re 3. You have a television. Cable. HBO. Access to Game of Thrones and House of Lies on demand. 

I even let you get tattooed by the locals. 

Yet you refuse to pick up your mess. 

And AJ the Cat is all like:

 

 

Side note. The cat isn’t doing well, currently at the vet for over 4 days with pancreatic issues. See what happens when you don’t pick up your crap?  

Ugh. Then you go and pick out a bear at Build-A-Bear. The perfect one. All by yourself. Batman and Yankees. And then I go and forgive you for being the douchehead that you are. You melt me. 

  

2 Much?

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It feels weird that there’s someone’s penis in me…

It’s a boy! Mommy Ranman currently carries your probably-already-annoying baby bro, Baby Rangirl. I’m sure as you read this, your eyes are rolled back into your head as we begin the retelling of a story you’ve already lived.

But I’m going to cite every fight. Every annoyance. Every time either of you piss me off so that when this blog is discovered, you and your bro will be reminded the trials and (errors) tribulations we’ve endured as parents. And mayhaps this will also serve as reason to put your mother and I in a nice retirement home which avoids the mortal enemies we’ve accumulated over the years from defending the actions of you two rugrats?

Yup, it’s a boy! He’s already playing with it already!

Great, this boy has no shame already in front of the doc and ladies. 

The other week we were hanging with your Irish side of the family (Happy St. Patrick’s Day!) in Connecticut while I got over some plague you passed onto me from daycare. How’d you help me recover from all the trips to the restroom during the night at the hotel?



By hogging the bed each and every time I got up. 



Oh, that’s memecat- are memes even a thing in the future Baby Rangirl? Well that’s our 8 year old A. J. the cat conveying my thoughts accurately at your inconsideration. 

I can’t even imagine what 2 kids in a hotel room would mean. You guys are sleeping with the janitor. 

The Strike System is Born

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The other day, I realized I love my kid. With proper form she delivered what I’m going to refer as “the phrase that pays”. I was talking to Mommy Ranman and Baby Rangirl interrupts me:

“Daddy, shut up.” 

Precise. Posture. Pain in the ass. The 3 P’s to success were all there. For only being 3 years of age this kid is being a douchehead at a 5th grade level. 

In addition, what does she do yesterday? She runs up to me. Puts her tiny butt on me. And says “daddy, I’m going to fart on you!” and delivers a little pop of wind on my leg. 

I have no idea where this kid learned any of this. People would assume from me, but I tell the kid to shut her face and have yet to fart in front of anyone in our house (awake, at least) because I’m a lady. 

But in 2 seconds I turned from proud-dad to get-outta-my-house dad. No, Baby Rangirl didn’t bring home any boys. She accidentally bounced a ball into a cup of pineapple juice which spilt on my iPhone. Even when I typed “spilt on my--” auto fill suggested “iphone“. It knew what would be the one reason I disown my child. 

Strike 1, Baby Rangirl. You have 1.5 left. 

Strike 0.5: Almost a strike- placing her toys in a “kissing” position. On purpose. No more Netflix programming around this kid. 



Oh I’ll Keep You In Check

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What the balls is this, Baby Rangirl?

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You come home from Preschool of all places with not one- but TWO Valentines?? David and Carlton? Clariol?Clarkkent? Well whoever that second kid is- they both have sent home a vday death wish/hit on their head.

And don’t start that whole “Daddy, they’re just friends” crap I see on the TVs and interwebs. I’ll revert to scaring you silly with the toy robot you’re so deathly afraid of. Oh yeah – you know the one. It kept you from climbing up the stairs for over a year now, all because it shoots and fires lasers. It’ll keep you from hanging with David and Coral. Here’s a recap:

“Daddy what’s that?”
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“Uh oh…”

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“Ok I’m so gone!”

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So yea. Lose the male friends. Fast.

Loneliest 9+ Months

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No, not because I gotta deal with morning sickness all over again by myself. I’m not lonely because it’s 1.5 parents raising Baby Rangirl while child #2 sucks the energy out of Mommy Ranman. Life isn’t an isolated one because I need to find my own meals with wife filling up on Doritos and pickles (the only thing she can stomach).

It’s just that. Well…

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This is the most sober I’ve been for weeks at a time. I’ll get buzzed off of a drunk person’s fart these days with ever-diminishing tolerance. I guess that makes for a great father to my little Rangirl while she’s the only child.

The Joker Teaches Oral Hygiene

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Thank you random pack of Batman cards. Thanks to this freaky card, Baby Rangirl is terrified of going the night without brushing her teeth. We now keep it in the bathroom next to the decorative candles.

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A Tiny Huge Mistake?

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So um…

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At first I was like…

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Then I remembered the first go at this…

…from dinosaur-sized snack…

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…to donkey-girth hogger of bed space:

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Ugh. Remember tummy time to prevent the kid from getting “flathead”?

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And I guess I totally wasn’t accurate in my assumption that parenting was going to entirely suck, as would my kid.

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Can’t help but quickly reflect…

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The new growing pain lies ahead. The thing looks ready to pounce as is….

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