9/19/16- When Our Friendship Takes A Turn

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By howdy does it ever, Baby Rangirl. I ain’t gonna remember much by the end of the day, but today I’m going to recall this as when you declared war: “I like mommy more better than you!”

Now this may be the pivotal strain on our young relationship every father/daughter combo must endure- I just thought I had some more time, yah know? Early 90’s sitcom has taught me that I’d regret having a daughter come 13 years of age. But 4? 

Fine. Go love your mammy more than me. Today marks the day I pull back on the Toys for Baby Rangirl program, and reinvest in the underfunded Your Brother is Cuter Anyways foundation. You friggin poopie face mcpoop face. 

Here’s a time when you 2 actually got along and were both in my favor….

…monster feet and all:

But I guess this is now top dog:


Bumps and Bruises

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Mommy Ranman left me to watch Baby Ranboy one afternoon whilst we worked from home. She stepped away for 20 seconds and Baby Ranboy ate the tile with some sort of dramatic fall to the floor. I soon became the dad who can’t watch his kid. 
Days later I noticed Baby Ranboy take 2 falls on Mommy Ranman’s watch ever since my offense. 3 falls if we count the start of the new fiscal calendar. 

But I forget the competition Mommy Ranman and I are having to see who drops the kid the least, and go on a date nights to get away from all the douchebagedgry that comes with 2 kids:

Kids put you out of your element, like the time I mounted batman for Baby Ranboy’s first birthday. 

Here he is at “Bring Your Kids to Work Day”, pretending to be Batman:

What about Baby Rangirl? Well that chica is all about playing house with the boys now. All the nope. 

Be a good brother and stop your sister from growing up Baby Ranboy!

Ugh fine. Goldfish crackers are more important.

Here’s some first birthday antics:

Happy 1st Birthday, Baby Ranboy 

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Little buddy! You’re a man now! Countdown is 203 months & 30 days until the last little one of youse is out the house and off to college/unemployment line. 

As a pre-birthday gift, you went ahead and ordered yourself a little treat:

You little turd. No more remotes for you. You’re a big boy now. Thus begins the dismantling of huge play gadgets you used only once. We’re slowly reclaiming the living room back. 

And as a final hurrah I gave you a haircut, shaving off the Irish curls your mom was loving so much. She teared up, threatening to chop off my limbs if I mess with her little boy again. 

Good luck out there, Baby Ranboy. Mommy Ranman is a fierce beast when it comes to you kids…

…your sister- not so much love coming your way. So far every birthday gift you’ve received came with a Baby Rangirl disclaimer “is it my turn to play with Ranboy’s toy? Sharing is caring!”

I Can Do Whatever I Want To Do

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8 friggin’ words I thought were reserved exclusively for annoying teenagers and daughters who hate their dads. Guess we have the latter on our hands when Baby Rangirl contested my request to wash her hands. All over her cleansing her hands. Not her heathen soul

This 4 year old sucker has been really trying our fear of Social Services lately with statements that are well beyond any kid her age. I defended her scolding Mommy Ranman with “don’t you touch me!” as an act of self defense. The stifling Mommy Ranman kisses she delivers would cause any child to act in aggression. 

Yesterday, Baby Ranboy was pushed down by this tyrant. Baby Rangirl- as you read this blog in your old age please note this: that fear you still have of me began with this post. 

I’ll follow up on how the parents win in this situation. Odds are in our favor. We will restore harmony:

Till then, run for your life, little man. 

Where Am I?

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Is that Lil Ranboy growing his 2 front teeth??

Ugh. No. It’s Baby Rangirl finding some rat thing in Pokemon Go. What year is this? This little mofo calls me “lame” all the time, and gets excited over this game?

At least the little man isn’t into this…wait. Where are you buddy? Ah! Gotta find you the same way we’re searching for Pokemons. 

Well at least we’re still in the year…wait! Did I just catch someone on my train with a DISCMAN??? 

Ok. It’s 1997 and the Yankees are still the best team ever. 
***8:07PM update: Pokemon has backfired. Baby Rangirl is scared of Pokemons. She will be in our bed all night. F-me, right?

I’m. So. Scared. Of her bothering us come 2AM. 

Tag Team

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Our house is under seige. Baby Rangirl fell asleep at 630 PM during the drive home from my parents and didn’t wake up until 12:30 AM to eat something that barely resembled a dinner. She proceeded to wake up two more times before ending up in bed with me as the result of bad dreams. I mean, when a mouse is eating your feet and it takes a witch to save you- that’s the type of dream we take seriously in the Ranman household. 

On Team Baby Ranboy, he was up since 1:30AM ever since Mommy Ranman decided to wake him up to take medicine for what I deemed a faint fever. Sure- he probably could have used the dose of meds; but I could have used the sleep more. He now resides in the guest room with Mommy Ranman after we both tried to put him to sleep via an episode of Ray Donovan, the rocking chair, a forbidden extra bottle of milk…

Everyone is finally settled by 3AM. And we all need to be up in 3 hours the latest. Yet, they both slept fine  during the onslaught of Independence Day fireworks. I’m going to have to come up with a name for this tagteam duo. “The Assholians” come to mind. 

“Oh look, Assholians are at it again!”

“Yea, I didn’t have any sleep due to the 1-2 punch from some Assholians.”

And now, pictures from the past week:

4th of July, locked in the house. They become a horrible twosome to watch whilst manning the grill:

Teamwork on the splash pad. Note: Baby Ranboy is wearing a size 18 months pants; waste is great but the length is clearly too much. #weightwatchers:

Baby Ranboy at Sears trying to help me track down a dishwasher that I’ve ordered since March. His presence helped refrain me from cussing them out:

And there he is in camouflage, navigating to the nearest flock of ladies on the beach:

…while Baby Rangirl gets to see a movie. 

Baby Ranboy pointing to hell, at least that’s where I feel he tells me to go each time I smother him:

Baby Ranboy’s first trip to the mechanics. No movie here, this is a manly trip for just the dudes. 


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“Daddy- Baby Ranboy called me a douche!”

Ok, Baby Rangirl…we’ll bite. Granted, the boy is only 10 months old and grunts more than he babbles. “And why did he call you a douche, Baby Rangirl?”

“I was playing and I hit his head!” 

“Ah, see? Babies can’t lie. Stop being a douche.”

Playtime can get competitive. 

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