Aug 30 2008
No use crying… (pt. 1)
Our baby is big. Big like the Gooch. People come up to us with their two year olds and wonder why our not-so-little one ain’t talking to her peers. We inform them that she’s only thirteen months and they’re like, “Yeah…”
And then I have to refrain Joss from knocking down their toddlers. I’m sure we got a bad reputation in the neighborhood. I’m afraid to think what they name our jolly blonde giant.
But it’s mostly in the genes. There’s not much we can do about that, eh? Can’t compress her, can we? (Can we?) I’m six feet three and my wife’s about 5′10″. The baby, at this rate, though, may wind up being three meters tall. Goliath, for sure.
We figure that there’s too many steroids in the food nowadays. So we decided to make a small (or not) step towards reducing her unnatural inclinations.
