Yesterday was my first solo time with The Nephew, V. V for Vendetta. Vendetta against the crimes of Ryvita.
I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe that we’d sit on the couch and watch The Ice Storm together, him with a sippy cup of water, or maybe something a little harder, like juice, and me with some ginger beer [I’m having a love affair with ginger beer right now. I want to take it behind the cricket nets and get it pregnant]. But no. Apparently kids just want to a) scream and laugh, b) stand up, fall over, stand up, fall over, c) destroy EVERYTHING from remote controls to issues of The Skeptical Inquirer, and d) laugh at themselves in the mirror. To be fair, I like to do most of these things myself. When I’m drunk.
I tells you, this kid business is tiring, so I thought I’d feed him and get some quiet time. No. Have you ever fed a kid a Ryvita covered in hummus? It’s V favourite, and let’s just say that I’m glad we ate on the kitchen floor because we both needed full changes of clothes by the time it was over.
I was told that he’d nap around 3pm, but at 3:30 he was all ‘AAAAAAAARGH!!!’ and The Wuz was all ‘HISS!’ so I thought I’d give him some milk and I will wish until my dying days that I got a video of it because this kid got stoned on milk. It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. One second he was all ‘Oooh! Sippy cup of milk!’ the next he was a dead weight in my arms, eyes rolled back in his head, frantically drinking milk while he was asleep, so putting him down for a nap was all easy peasy.
All-in-all, I think the day was quite the success.