AKA Deep Intellectual Conversations With Things That Jingle and Make Crinkly Noises
Hey man. What's up?
Heh. I know. Right?
Hehhhhhhhh. Heh. You're crazy, man.
I love you, but you're crazy.
But seriously. You raise an interesting point.
This is exciting! This requires hand gestures!
I just...admire the way you think. And I mean that. Honestly.
Why would you say something like that?
I think you've gone too far this time, man.
Nah, I'm just messing with ya. We're cool.
I had you going there, didn't I though?
Anyway, good talk. I gotta go see a girl about some dry pants now, 'kay? Catch ya later.
(Let me tell you, if there is a baby out there who does NOT lose his ever-loving soup-brain over the Lamaze Freddie the Firefly toy, I...uh, did not personally give birth to him. We are three for three over here.)
(We are also on our third freaking Freddie. After the initial smiles and coos comes the gumming. And the drooling. And then the gumming and the drooling and the puking and the hurling from the stroller and the running over with the stroller and alas! Poor Freddie. You burn fast and bright and brilliant and then you are thoroughly disgusting and Mommy is all, I gave Freddie to another baby who needs him. Another baby who lives in the trash can, and who is made of germs.)
(EDITED TO ADD SHAMELESS PIMPAGE: I'm recapping Project Runway at Mamapop. Aren't you excited?)
(Don't answer that.)