Whenever G bugs me for sex and I’m not in the mood, I tell him “Oh I can’t. I’m sorry. Not in this economy. We’ll reevaluate when things start to pick up again…” My favorite is, “You want a what? In this economy? are you kidding? G, there are no jobs in this economy. No jobs at all. I’m sorry. It’s not me, it’s the economy. There are just no jobs available. Better luck next time.”
my soon to be five-month-old is all braaaaainssss all the time. everything he sees he attacks. his slow lurching movements. his attempts to grab whatever passes in front of him. his singular fixed focus on slowly methodically relentlessly stuffing things into his mouth. his zombie rage when it can’t fit or he’s dropped it or it’s out of his reach. his habit of zombie crawling his way into my bed at night and chewing on my skull. his chubby little fingers burrowing their way to hidden zombie treasures. his fists opening, closing, opening, closing, seeking & searching, braaaaiiiiinnnnssss.