As I got TheMonk situated on the couch this morning, I explained to him what the day was going to be like.
“Today we’re going to watch football, Monk.” I said as I absent mindedly waved his pacifier around in the air as I spoke. “We’re gonna be MEN! We’re not gonna bathe and we’re gonna eat all day long.” (Well, he gets to eat all day long every day, but I look forward to it)
As I spoke, I continued to jab the pacifier in the air for emphasis. “Today, we’re gonna root for Terrell Owens and Cadillac Williams in the morning and Drew Brees and LaDanian Tomlinson in the evening, okay? And remember, we’re gonna sit around and eat and drink. Why? Because we’re men!”
At that, TheMonk cannot take it any longer. The pacifier has been dangling in front of him for too long. In my excitement to share this male bonding with my 3 month old son I hadn’t noticed that he was growing disturbed. Suddenly, he begins to cry. I look at the pacifier in my hand.
“Oh, here you go.” as I pop it into his mouth.
TheMonk calms down and begins sucking furiously.
“Okay,” I say, “We can be men with a binky.”
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