Life's Hard.

So this weekend Dad calls for a mandatory family meeting. I look over to Mom, and she's already rolling her eyes and putting her finger up to her head with her thumb pulled back - giving the universal sign for "I'd rather shoot myself." Mom cracks me up. Seriously. Remind me sometime to tell you about that thing she does where she sticks her tongue out at me - hilarious! She's got a gift, I tell you.

Anywho, the purpose of the meeting, as it turns out, is to figure out how little Benjamin can start carrying his weight around the house, now that he's a month old. Me: What. The. Haitch. Eee. Double-Hockey-Sticks? You can not be serious. Yup, the old man wants me to get a job.

Now I'll admit that at first I was a little skeptical, but I've given it some thought and I think I've learned a lot this past month that I could put to good use out in the work place. As long as the job is more focused on skills like bottle-sucking, diaper filling, and crying...and doesn't require that I'm able to talk, or sit up, or feed myself, or control my bowels, I'm pretty much up to the challenge. I do worry about Mom some though - who is she going to feed and burp and change and rock to sleep while I'm out working for The Man? Aw man, no time to dwell on that - the alarm is going off and I've got to get ready to face the world...mmm, right after I hit the snooze bar just this one more time.