Hey, it’s Cash! Since I’m just shy of my first birthday, this is my first guest post.
I’ll be honest – I’m not typing. I mean, how would I know how to type? I’m a baby. I’m actually dictating this post to my 9 year old sister who just loves getting on the computer.
(Umm.. Dylan, can you stop looking up photos of Niles and those other One Direction pansies and focus on this very important post.)
Anyway, my mother (the woman who last week drove off with the spare keys on her hood and now we can’t find them), was just named one of the 2014 Blogher Voices of the Year because of a guest post by my brother Chase.
I’m totally happy for my mother but why should my brother get all the glory?!
I’m the rock star over here.
You should hear everyone go on and on about how ridiculously cute and sweet I am. They keep throwing around this phrase, “good disposition” which must mean “doesn’t mind all that much when they leave me in my high chair for 45 minutes before remembering to actually feed me.”
Meanwhile, my mom keeps trying to teach me how to clap, wave and open my arms to show I’m “SO BIG.” I want to tell her, “Mom, I’m your 5th kid. Why are you working so hard? Make yourself a cocktail and relax for minute. We’ll get to work on that clapping thing tomorrow. Friday at the latest.”
I really have been an awesome baby. Well, except for the car. I used to cry non-stop from the moment the car left the driveway until the destination. I could be an actor the way I could start and stop those tears.
But I quit that constant car crying thing because it was exhausting. You know, you get older and you just don’t have the energy of the younger babies.
My mom has been nuts over this teacher appreciation week. We’ve been bringing in lunches and gift cards. And then we all had to color notes for our teachers. Well, not me. Because first of all, I would eat the crayon and the paper. And second, I don’t have a teacher. Do you seriously think my mom and dad pony up money for me to take a class? No way.
I watch all these first borns in the neighborhood taking these really fun mommy and me music and yoga classes. Meanwhile, I go to a class my mommy calls, “trip to the grocery store” and another one called, “we need gas again” where I don’t even get out of the car!
Please don’t tell my mom I griped about this because she’s still breastfeeding me and I really don’t want her to cut me off.
But in case she reads this post…. mom, I love you so much and I don’t know why you always say you have “the hands of an eighty year old woman” because I don’t think the wrinkles on your hands make you look a day over 65. Love, your youngest son Cash.