Here’s the reason I could never be a professional writer: because I can only write when there is other stuff that I should be doing instead. It’s like writing is my tawdry secret affair (that I then go and post on the internet). If I were to ever give up my day job so that I could just write…well, then writing would become my day job. And I would have to have a tawdry affair with the Angry Birds app on my phone instead. And anything that I did manage to write would be about nefarious pigs stealing eggs and birds launching themselves at the pigs in retribution. I have a feeling that plotline would get pretty old pretty quickly.
(On a side note: how long until someone in Hollywood gets the bright idea to make Angry Birds: The Movie? Maybe I should get around to writing that screen play. I could go all Adaptation, and write about a professional writer who can’t think of anything to write about except Angry Birds…it would be almost as existential as Curious George 2: Follow that Monkey. Which is a study in the internal debate between the Id and the Ego and finding a balance therein, which is obvious to anyone who has watched it 5 times in 3 days.)
But back to our topic.
Wait. What was today’s topic?
Oh right. Today’s topic is that I do not have a topic for today. It’s not that nothing is happening, it’s just that without deadlines from William and Mary looming over my head, I am afforded legitimate time to sit down and write. So of course, the only thought trickling through my brain is:, “Stupid pigs. They deserve what they get.”
But I want to update the blog because it’s been a week.
Therefore, here are a few totally unrelated stories involving Eamon (it is his blog, after all). I find them all rather endearing even though I fully admit that they have no real relevance or bearing on the greater meaning of life.
You’re on your own for that, I’m afraid.
(Then again, you always were. And if you were coming here as part of your quest for the meaning of life...well, you have bigger problems than my lack of a coherant story-line this week).
Eamon is all-boy, and loves throwing things and banging things and smooshing things…but slowly, we are brainwashing him into acknowledging his softer side. (Okay, it’s mostly me doing this). It involves constant hugs and kisses and saying, “I love you,” but finally, he is not only reciprocating these emotions but sometimes even initiating them.
He’s still very much a boy, though. Hence this situation:
I was dressing Eamon after bath. I had managed to get the lotion and a diaper on him when Eamon suddenly hugged me, patting me on the back. “Be okay, Mommy,” he said sympathetically. “Be okay. Don’t cry, Mommy.”
I wasn’t crying, for the record. But I was a bit upset. And Eamon was trying to comfort me.
Of course, the reason I was upset was because Eamon had taken his pajamas and thrown them across the room about 2 seconds previously.
But that isn’t the point.
We were eating dinner. Eamon smiled and said, “I wuv you Daddy.” Aaron smiled back.
“Oh no!” cried Eamon. “Teeth! Mess!”
“Does Daddy have some of his dinner stuck in his teeth?” I asked.
“Yes!” cried Eamon. “Oh no! Daddy dinner-teeth!”
And now, whenever anyone has anything stuck in their teeth, Eamon announces that they have “dinner-teeth.” Upon retrospection, this is a word that we have needed for years, because saying, “You have something stuck in your teeth” is far less efficient than saying, “You have dinner-teeth.” But it took a 2 year old to figure that out, to see what we adults have been missing for years. It’s like the Emperor’s New Clothes, only without any sense of poignancy or importance.
Eamon has a rather limited arsenal of adjectives with which to describe his new observations. He does the best he can, though, and doesn’t mean to offend anyone as he attempts to discover and make sense of the world.
That being said: Nini, we’re sorry that he called your arms “soggy” the other day.
There really wasn’t a Story Four. But I figured my mom would want me to end on a different note. So give me a second to think of something else.
Okay, got it:
The other day while driving back from the grocery store, Eamon and I got stuck in some heavy traffic.
Eamon has little patience for this kind of thing. When we stopped behind a line of cars at another stoplight, Eamon announced, “No stop! Go, Mommy! Go! Drive fast!”
I explained that I could not drive through cars. Darn Physics.
“Too many cars!” he informed me. I agreed. But Eamon had a solution.
“Throw away, Mommy! Throw away cars!”
Apparently, my son sees me as a sort of traffic-induced Hulk-Mommy who can repeatedly heave thousands of pounds of steel from our path so that we can get home 5 minutes faster.
And while I have been working out recently, I am still short of any car-throwing aspirations.
But boy can I launch an angry bird at a pig.
And now that I have updated for this week, I must excuse myself. Those pigs aren’t going to destroy themselves.
In keeping with the spirit of this blog entry, some pictures that have nothing to do with any other topic discussed here today: