Things to do as soon as possible:
- Amass a stockpile of answers to off-the-cuff (and insane) questions from Zoey. Today alone I was asked, "Why can't I put pieces in my butt like Mr. Potato Head?" and "Are jack-o-lanterns boys or girls?" Rather than telling her things like "Because Mr. Potato Head is a plastic toy, not a person. People don't put pieces in their butts (unless you're a crammer)." and "Jack-o-lanterns can be whatever you want them to be. It's your chance to play God, Zoey," I'm leaning towards the catchall "Ask Mommy when she gets home." Pass the buck is my new motto.
- Post a list of parenting sites I read on a regular basis.
- Teach the world how to properly resize images before emailing them to me. You have a cute new baby? I'll have to take your word for it because there's no way I'm opening five images that total over 8 MB. I don't want to make my computer cry. For me to even think about opening 8 MB worth of images, someone had better be naked in the photos. And hot. And over twenty-one.
- Figure out a way to get by on less sleep. Ever since my bout with heat exhaustion, I've been going to bed around 10:00 PM. Before that, I would normally go to bed between 1:00-2:00 AM and be fully functional the next day. I should probably go to a doctor, but they have an affinity for poking and prodding and sticking their fingers in places fingers shouldn't go. Plus they ask too many damn questions.
- Stop writing about things going in people's butts. Twice in one entry! Egad!
- Before answering the doorbell while playing beauty shop with Zoey (I swear, it's like playing with a little old lady; I know no woman under the age of eighty refers to the place she gets her hair cut as a beauty shop), make sure all bows, ribbons, and barrettes are out of my hair. Yesterday, my neighbor dropped by to see if I was coming down to watch Monday Night Football. He added, "Nice bow." Some days I have so many bows and ribbons and barrettes in my hair, I look like Poseur Boy on his way to Lollapalooza '92. Between Zoey constantly pretending to wash my hair, cut my hair, paint my fingernails, and adorning my hair with various ribbons and baubles, I have to be the prettiest dad in the neighborhood!
- Write more frequently. And not fluff pieces like this one. Actually, it's all dreck. Why are you reading this?
- Get some self-esteem before it rubs off on the kids (see above).
- Something tells me I don't need to worry about it rubbing off on the kids (at least not Zoey). We were watching a video for Laurie Berkner's I'm Not Perfect. Zoey turned to me and said, "I'm perfect." Yes you are, dear. Yes you are.
