Last night Brantley was continuously not following my orders. It was almost as if he was exercising free will.
Me- “Look, if you want to ride my gravy train, then you’re going to have to follow my rules.”
Brantley- “And what gravy would we be talking about?”
Me- (I pointed to a paycheck on my dresser.) “That gravy. Booya.”
Brantley- “That’s not even a giblet.”
Later on, Brantley took the front off of Luke’s crib to transition into the big boy bed he’s about to be getting. We’ve tried this before and were met with resistance, but I digress. In celebration of this milestone Luke decided to wake up at 5:30 this morning and scream my name until I staggered into his bedroom. He took one look at me and asked, “Mom, is you ashamed? Is you ashamed, Mom?”
I mustered the energy to speak only by imagining a cup of coffee in my hand. “No, Luke, I’m not ashamed. But, it’s not even 6am. Give me time.”