Holy. Fuckin’. Hell.
Took the Gran-bebe this weekend… and yeah… Bebe. As in “Bebe’s Kids.”
To those not in the know:
A damn shame about Robin Harris… Died in 1990 of a heart attack… Fucker was poised to be the first Tyler Perry when he got cashed. The movie was so-so… a good start which unfortunately never made it beyond.
But yeah. Apparently the Gran-Bebe ain’t been getting proper discipline at the other Grandparents house. The Missuz’s X Hubby and his new wife… well, methinks they ain’t doing what needs to be done.
Namely smoking the ever lovin shit outta her when she misbehaves.
Me? I have Z-E-R-O Issue with taking a layer offa dat azz. Skin is meant to be shed, albeit not in sheets, but it WILL grow back.
My absence has been because of this and the sundry exhaustion/fighting I’m dealing. A spoiled 2.5 year old? Holy hell. Her latest is to DEMAND what she wants for dinner. Not whats served… she starts dictating in baby-talk “No papi! na-wan’ (insert whatevers on the plate) Wan’ (nuggys/hawdawg/booger)!!! At which point me and the Missuz are like “eat it or leave it, it’s what’s for dinner.”
Now, the first night we had our ‘issue’, she started this whining keening horribly annoying noise… I told her essentially to shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down, and fuckin’ eat. And yeah… I –am- like that… Z-E-R-O fucks given, nor shit taken. Ask Spawn #1 how it was to grow up under the Tyrant. So… the whining continues, and I’m across the room by a bit… the Missuz who was hovering, turns her back for a split second and the lil monster locks eyes with me, gives me a chinned up in the air look sideways out of her eyes….
And flips the whole tray onto the floor.
AT least the dog was happy. What she didn’t expect was me to be on her like a rash and beating that ass 3 times, with an immediate lockdown to cribville, sans toys, blankie or bubbie. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.
And she’s done it again tonight…
‘Cept the Missuz caught her as we both recognized the whining…
More to follow… I have to go get her to –try- to feed her. At this point my dinner is Sambuca shots followed by Bud Lite.
Until then I remain The Intrepid Reporter