My lovely family unit is leaving tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn (5:15am! Come join the festivities!) for Charleston, South Carolina. My lovely family unit is very much looking forward to this trip, even if it involves appeasing my son, Mr. Drama, on the airplane all day.
This (rather loud) drama is surely a phase, right? I mean, I know I might have a tiny bit of flair for the over-dramatic myself, but COME ON, I employ it solely for entertainment purposes. I’m an Entertainer. Not an Overly-Dramatic Fool.
(Dear Mom and Dad, you are not allowed to comment on this entry. Especially if it involves a story of my youth involving green Jello. Love, Whoorl)
Just this morning, while I was sitting in the living room, D announced that it was time to get Mr. Drama dressed for the day. You would have thought we were packing him up for the orphanage.
D: (Looking over at Mr. Drama, who is calmly playing with building blocks.) “Let’s go get dressed, buddy.”
Mr. Drama: (Calmness morphs into insta-hysterics.) “NOOOOOOOO! Mommy! Don’t go! Bye-BYYYYYEEE, Mommy! Bye, Mommy! Love you, PRECIOUS MOMMY!”
Whoorl: “Honey, I’m right here. Daddy’s just taking you to the next room to get dressed.”
Mr. Drama: (Lying on the floor, holding on to the door frame.) “I LOVE YOU, MOMMY. GOODBYYYYE….”
Whoorl: “Fine. I’ll get your clothes. Let’s go.”
Mr. Drama: “NOOOOO! DADDY! I’ll miss you, precious daddy! Bye-byyyyyye, daddy!”
Purchased the wrong kind of juice? DRAMA. Passed him the purple crayon instead of the blue one? DRAMA. Must quit playing outside because it’s dinner time? DRAMA. Max and Ruby is on the television? DRAMA. (“NOOOOOOOOOO Max and Ruby, Mommy! NOOOOOOO.”)
(I have to say, that show does kind of suck.)
You see, situations like these make it easier to understand why upon passing a rather attractive firefighter, my first thought is no longer whether or not he looks good in his skivvies. No, it seems now the most pressing matter is whether or not his fire station participates in the Infant Drop-Off Program, and maybe, just maybe, if I bat my eyelashes, he’ll look past the fact that Mr. Drama is decidedly NOT an infant and take him anyway.
(Any recommendations for good eats/shops/parks in Charleston? I’ve got a good list started, but I DON’T WANT TO MISS A THING!)
(That was a little dramatic, wasn’t it?)