Communal Living

I had to work from home one morning and in order to distract Cardin from wanting to touch my laptop every 5 seconds; I hauled out her crate of stuffed animals.  The larger animals got set up around a blanket for a tea party.  Awww…that’s cute, right? I have such a little girl who is going to dress in fluffy pink dresses. HA. You’re all fooled. Once she had finished giving her prisoners tea and they were fully satiated and felt comfortable, she trampled each and every one of them like King Kong on his way to retrieve his leading lady. Only scattered pieces of the tea set and blooded animals were left.

 Once she had killed the elders she went for the young. All the small stuffed animals were sent to the plastic death chamber. I like to refer to it as communal living or perhaps massive prison overcrowding. Listen Lady, all I know is that I would not want to be one of her toys; she is not gentile. Look at that poor, pink quacker down there. Talk about getting shit on.

Like a Virgin

I was playing with my daughter this weekend and she was feeding me all sorts of pre-fabricated, plastic food. Grapes, pizza, hotdogs, ice cream.  Instead of gaining 400 pounds of plastic weight I decided to setup some of her dolls and let them increase their thigh size for awhile.

And then this happened…….

It got me thinking. Cardin’s synapses aren’t fully formed yet, so psychologically she’ll never be able to remember the first two years of her life and all the times I got dressed in front of her. Plus, let’s be realistic lady, I gave birth to her and breastfed her…if that wasn’t traumatic then I doubt throwing a shirt on in front of her is going to do any more damage. Listen Lady it’s times like this, when ice cream cones get turned into boobies that make me wonder if I’m damaging my daughters psyche.

I guess I should be thankful she didn’t take the two small cherries and put them in the baby’s crotch.