He’s not losing sleep over the sunglasses.

He’s more pissed off on a regular basis about things like why he can’t have a million and five cups of apple juice in one day and our infernal, never-ending desire to torture him orally with that weird plastic stick that has bristles, under the guise of “keeping his teeth strong, healthy, and clean!”

But the sunglasses?  Meh.  He’s so over that.

And I just can’t help myself.  I beg that no one gets offended, but I feel like I have to say, as per some comments on yesterday’s post, that Braden actually has not only 2 pair of sunglasses made to actually fit his face, but he has been given another pair of my old sunglasses to delight himself with.  So, no worries, he has sunglasses to play with.

I hid the broken pair from him that night (after he tried to wear them with one side broken off and got a bit annoyed when they wouldn’t stay on), and he never even cared.  I gave him the replacement pair a day or so later, and he happily put them on and ran around, no questions asked.

They are really manly, too. Silver Leopard Print, Baby.  Yeah. (Of course, again, he couldn’t care less.)

Eh… uh… about yesterday’s post… the sunglasses per se really weren’t the main idea I’d intended for the article to focus you on, rather they created a situation that made my mind stretch a little and my emotions warble and dance. I wanted to share with you the little emotional jig that was being performed in my head and my heart… see if maybe you could dance the steps with me.

By the way (*huffs and puffs, theatrically*), I’m pretty good at figuring out how to fix the silly little things that my 2 year old worries about, in a practical way.  Gimme a lil bit of credit as a mom, folks, dang.  I’m not a TOTAL moron, really! (No, really.  STOP LAUGHING BEHIND YOUR HAND. I CAN SEE YOU, DAMNIT.)

And no offense to anyone, cause I adore you guys (you commented, that means you gave a shit, and I adore you), but there is no amount of super glue or duct tape that could hold the metal/plastic together for long enough to withstand even 30 seconds of  Two-Year-Old-Boy-Play.  Braden can look at things hard enough to break them, sometimes, I swear.  So that made me giggle.

So, anyway… I was just making some connections between this little thing and larger emotions and issues… painting a small picture that mirrors a large and complex one in the adult world?

Bah, sometimes a girl just doesn’t get her point across.

I should stick to fart jokes, right?

*poot*