Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Into Each Life a Little Poop Must Sashay

It hurts me physically to see my daughter cry. Even worse is being the reason for the crying, which is extraordinarily unpleasant in every way. Makes you feel like a monster, which you are for being the reason a child cries. If you contribute in any way to a fall, like not moving something she could trip over from a path, you feel like Stalin.

Sabrina doesn't look terribly unhappy in this picture. I'm sure neither I nor my wife would have stood there and taken a picture while she was genuinely miserable, and she doesn't really look that pissy so it could be tiredness-based or manipulation for all I know. Yes, my daughter is a master manipulator already, and good for her. She's going to need that later.

I mean it's like having your skin peeled off, seeing and hearing your child in pain. In the running for worst thing ever.


Anonymous said...

She is cying due to her number 1 threat in the oat fields... CHIGGERS!!! Dang ol' chigger... chigger please!

Aunty Belle said...

Hoo-daddy, ya' better toughen up, SugarPie iffin' youse gonna git that pretty baby to adulthood--she is gonna wrench yore heart in ways ya never knowed a fella could be wrenched. But it'll be worth eve'r minute. I'se jes' sayin'.....

I like the sayin' on the headin' of your blog. But I cain't recall how I got here.