I wouldn’t say I’m fussy or particular (though my wife may have words to the contrary on that), but is it too much to expect to find things…where you left them?
I mean, if I’m using or playing around with something and then I put it down for just a second, expecting to return to it in a jiffy, am I setting the expectation bar, too high, to think it would be in the exact same place I left it?
It’s the kind of thing you’d expect from your surgeon: When I wake up, can you please make sure all my organs are where I left them? It’s what you expect from your mechanic: When I pick up my car, can you please make sure all it’s engine parts are where I left them? It’s even what you’d expect from volunteering to be strapped to a spinning wheel while a blindfolded knife-thrower hurls razor sharp blades at you: When I open my eyes and stop spinning, can you please make sure all my appendages are exactly where I left them? But, is it too much to expect…
From your baby?
I mean, come on! I like being secure in the knowledge that when I lay my boy down to play on his activity mat, or lay him down to bed in his cot, that if I have to get up to turn the kettle on, use the little boys room, or perform open brain surgery…that I expect to quickly return to find him exactly where I left him. But now, it seems as if he’s suddenly obsessed with old TV Westerns like, RAWHIDE. Every time we put him down, he goes straight into the theme song…
ROLLIN’…ROLLIN’…ROLLIN’
Which is fine, except for the fact he’s like Jerry Seinfeld…he can’t go left!
There’s no ROCK in his ROLL.
He can only roll in one direction and can’t rock back to roll the other way, (which coincidentally, is exactly the same as boy band, One Direction). So, we often find him mushed up against his prison bars doing a Braveheart impression, but with a magenta stripe down his William Wallace face. Until he cries out in anguish, “You’ll never take my FREEDO–ouch!”
Scratch that, you did take my freedom. A little help, someone…anyone?
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