I’ve been working on a photobook the last couple nights, and I’ve run into some “colourful” photos of the munchkin expressing his opinions on my outfit choices…specifically when it comes to head and face wear!
Case 1: The Party Hat
But I thought kids liked Elmo! I guess if it’s not his birthday, he’s not playing along.
Case 2: The Sunglasses
He does not wear his sunglasses at night, Corey Hart. Or during the day. Or EVER.
Case 3: The Winnie the Pooh Hat
I’m not sure if he’s pouting because he thinks Winnie the Pooh is lame, or because one ear wouldn’t stay up.
Case 4: The Rudolph Nose
He’s like my cat: he thinks if he leans back far enough, he can pull his nose out of the Rudolph nose.
Disclaimer: The munchkin was not physically damaged in the taking of any of these photos. I can’t promise that he wasn’t emotionally damaged, however…but hey, gotta keep those therapists in business!
Before munchkin was born, I did everything I could to prepare my cat, Puddin’ (yes, that’s his name…derived over the years from “I taught I saw a puddy cat!”). I sat down with him, played some YouTube videos of babies crying for him, and asked him to please please don’t bite at or poop on his new baby brother (I am not a crazy cat lady, I am not a crazy cat lady…).
I was nervous when they first met. Puddin’ cautiously crept to Munchkin’s side as he slept in his car seat, tentatively sniffed at him…and then walked away and proceeded to ignore him for six months.
It wasn’t until Munchkin started to sit and play on his own that Puddin’ paid any attention to him at all. He would walk by, glancing at the munchkin from the corner of his eye, scoping out this tiny-human/hairless-cat that had intruded on his cosy little existence.
Unfortunately, around this time Munchkin also started to become aware of Puddin’ (though to be fair, I kinda think he believes Puddin’ is just a really awesome moving stuffed animal). I can tell whenever he has spotted him because he starts doing this crazy flailing arm thing accompanied by screeching that seems reserved for Puddin’ alone (because cats don’t meow, according to my child…they shriek like a velociraptor).
At which point the cat will give me a look as though to say, “No seriously, what the hell is wrong with that kid?!?”
I don’t know, Puddin’. I don’t know.