Kids crack me up. I know I am not supposed to think my kid is the second coming or anything like that, but I’m pretty sure he’s darn close. Everyday is something new- and I know all the veteran parents out there are shaking their heads and thinking “oh remember when we thought everything our kid did was just *so* sweet/smart/funny/unique?”. But indulge me. This is my first kid after all.
Anyway, we were getting ready to leave the house yesterday and the despot decided he couldn’t go anywhere without his Dog Dog. Or as he calls it, “Gog”. And by George, if he didn’t hold on like hell all the way to the gym, where he just had to take it into the nursery as well. And well, afterwards, as we took a walk?
I mean, don’t get me wrong. He likes his stuffies. And we put Gog into bed with him each night and he will cuddle up for a minute or two. But usually the despot is so eager to get the hell out of dodge (his crib) in the AM that he has no qualms leaving a good soldier behind. And the good soldier is usually on the floor, where he has been tossed along with any other item not nailed down. Until yesterday. You see, though Gog had been unceremoniously tossed at some point during his AM nap, when I went to take Colin upstairs, he lunged toward the floor, screaming, “GOG!” And after that? Inseperable. I felt kinda bad for Gog. He could probably use a nap.
So it took 11 months, but I think the despot has a security stuffy, which warms my icy cold heart. Nothing like a little blond haired boy holding onto his Gog.