It’s calendar flip day. This month is Weimaraner twister. (Taken with instagram)

Just before my son turned two, we had had a series of really rough nights/days. You know, the normal “terrible two’s” kind of stuff. My husband and I had just put him down for bed a few hours earlier and all the sudden we heard him say “mama” in the sweetest little voice you could imagine. I checked out the video monitor to see what he needed and he was sleeping like a rock. It was so sweet that he was dreaming about me. It made the troubles of the past few days seem to vanish.

My son has a “Woody” doll from Toy Story. He can’t say “Woody” so he calls him “Wee Wee” instead. After we put him down for bed the other night, we heard him say “Nigh Night Wee Wee”. I couldn’t help but think that if a total stranger overheard him they’d probably think he was saying goodnight to his penis.

He’ll just have to learn the word no and that those cords are off limits.

I caught a whiff of the dog and he smelled like wet dog.  Against my better judgment, I asked.

“We were playing duck hunt [in the bath].  He was our dog that laughed at us when we missed.  Because, you know, six month babies aren’t so great at aiming.”

[massaging shoulders with lotion]

“You can do it, Rocky.  You’re a champion.  You can do it, Rock.”

(bonus if you get the title movie reference)

“Well I don’t give a damn for the whole state of Michigan, whole state of Michigan, whole state of Michigan, ‘cause we’re from O-HI-O.”

This is my baby.  My husband tells him silly things and I crack up quite often.  I need someplace to record it before it falls out of my sleep deprived head.