Many of you may be wondering how I can type all of these posts and still take care of my son. Well, I either write these when he’s still asleep, when he’s taking a nap, or even throughout the day whenever I have a moment to quickly write something down. Last night, it dawned on me that I am not the fun parent. I know, it is awful. One parent has to be the fun one while the other will be the party pooper. I am the party pooper.
I don’t know why it took me so long to realize it, but it became perfectly clear last night. My husband started repeatedly tossing a water bottle in the air. At first my son didn’t know what to think of this action. Then it hit him. A light bulb turned on in my son’s head (we call that an epiphany), and he got a kick out of it (I tried posting a video, but I learned I would have to pay at least $60 to have that feature, and I am cheap). My son was like, “Holycrapmomhowdareyoukeepthisfrommedadisawesomethisissofunny!.” Yep, he was like all of that in one breath. Apparently I keep a lot of stuff from him, too.
After a while of my son falling over on his side with laughter, my husband accidentally dropped the bottle and I picked it up. I wanted to make my son laugh some more, so I started tossing it in the air. My son looked at me and seemed to say, “What on earth are you doing? Give that back to Daddy. Silly Mommy, fun is for us, not you.” It hit me right then that I’m not the fun parent, but that’s okay. Mommy kisses the boo-boos, makes the bad stuff go away, and will tease the living crap out of you when you are old enough to understand what Mommy says, my son.