Well, folks, this may be my final guest post. I am getting ear tubes tomorrow, and Mommy thinks I'll soon be speaking lengthy, sophisticated and articulate sentences, and she also thinks it's not as funny to imagine what I'm saying when I can, you know, for real say stuff.
So yes, surgery is scheduled for tomorrow, and I'm hearing lots of phrases that make me vaguely uncomfortable, such as "can't give him anything to drink" but also things that sound most excellent like, "will have to stay home after the surgery." I could have sworn she also said, "though I wish I could just take him to gan afterward." I shall assume that was just my fluid-filled ears playing tricks on me.
Before I sign off, I would like to give you some final pellets of wisdom:
1. There is absolutely nothing wrong with eating cereal with your toothbrush. Don't listen to Mommy.
2. I am the favorite and she did find the other two in a box on the side of the road, no matter what anyone says.
3. One can never have too many sippy cups.
4. When you're doing something wrong, don't try to hide it. Go on the offense. If a bigger person approaches you while you are deep into their stuff (throwing Yaakov's money around, sweeping all of Ariella's art projects onto the floor, wearing Mommy's headphones as a necklace), scream "DIE!!!" (the Hebrew "die," not the English "die" - I'm not violent) as loud as you can. After all, they're not so innocent! They are bothering you. And you're not going to take it anymore!
5. I am not spilling. I am simply freeing the liquids from their constraining environs. If you love it set it free, and all.
6. Yes, really. (This is in answer to Mommy's frequently asked question, "Really Nadav? Really?")
7. A PSA to my dear mother: I know I've said this before, but get off the freakin' computer. No one has emailed you in the five minutes since you last checked and the only exciting thing happening on Facebook is someone "pinned" something that you are never going to craft or bake anyway. Go do something useful, like clean up the yogurt I just freed all over the floor.
8. Here's a simple guide to understanding two-year-olds. I love it, unless I hate it. (The opposite also works.) It's a lack of understanding of this simple premise that leads to the inaptly named "terrible twos."
9. Also, all Meema has to do to make me happy is give me everything I want right away. Is that so difficult?
10. Daddy rocks. Even when he disappears into the phone for a week, I still love that guy.
Folks, it's been real. Soon, Mommy will be able to blog about all the adorable bon mots that will surely emanate from my lips. Until then....
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