It’s no secret I love my toys. What warm-blooded kid wouldn’t? I can share them when I need to…but mostly I feel like I don’t need to share them. Doesn’t everyone have their own toys? Someone should tell Momma this, because she keeps taking mine. It wouldn’t be so bad if she was playing with them…with me. You think she is playing with them though? No. I’ll give you one guess as to what she is doing with MY toys. Yep…taking pictures. PICTURES!! Please. Spare me.
When does it end? She tells me to not worry, and to focus on the bigger picture. Like I know what that is. Please, I’m 1 ½. My bigger picture entails baths, warm nighttime bottles, timely diaper changes, snacks and … oh yea, TOYS!! I just stare at her, blinking away the horror. I cross my arms, puff out my chest, stare some more, trying to communicate my message: Put. The. Toys. Down. Step. Away. Clearly, she can’t read my body language. And she calls herself an anthropologist. Pfff. She then tells me I’m helping “them” with photos for the new Imagery website. Like I care.
My toys…not hers.
Another toy.
Just walk away.
When will it end!!!????
I don’t care. But, I notice she missed all my blocks and trains, so I carry them over to her. “Bocks, bocks…twain”, I suggest in the most uninterested tone I can muster, followed by a yawn. Hey, if you can’t beat “them”, might as well join “them”…or pretend to. If I could only get my hands on that camera, or at least beat it with my blocks. Hmmmm….And what is this Imagery website anyway? Wait…does this mean even more pictures!!!???!!! Oh, poop. No…I really just did.
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I now know what that look was for , it was a look that says that when momma is not looking I can get her camera and play with it , I just have to wait til she ( momma) is busy with sister .