I'm just going to sit down here and type up a funny story. Maybe make a few jokes, maybe one will get my wife to roll her eyes and then laugh when I'm not looking. Sure, I got time to do this now a days. I don't have anything else to do like chores, lawn mowing or binge watching Paw Patrol ALL THE FREAKING TIME CAN YOU PLEASE WATCH SOMETHING ELSE!
And Bacon Hoss is now sitting on me.
It's ok, I can still type and write a funny story while someone sits on my gut and hits me in the face with a sippy cup. I'm paying attention to him, yup, I am completly not trying to ignore my two year old son just to do a little bit of funny. I like it best when he is helping me type with his feet. That is in no way distracting and counter productive.
Alright, I can't type while my son is gut punching me and trying to feed me gold fish crackers. Let's take this show to the table.
I can find refuge at the table. If I push the laptop in the middle of the table and type all long arm style, I should be good to go. Except now he is actually on the table. Not in a chair, no. Actually on the table. He's got his little monkey head looking over the top of the screen to see what's going on. Now he is pushing buttons with a little monkey finger while making beep boop sounds. I'm hitting the delete key more than I'm actually writing. Maybe he can improve my spelling. I didn't think he could make it to the top of the table. I watched him do it. Stood on a chair, belly scooted to the top, came right over. I have got to admire the determination to not let me do anything.
No problem though, I'm Dad, I got all kinds of ideas. He can't reach the counter top. Suck it little boy, Dad's got one on you.
He unplugged my laptop while trying to climb up my leg. He's pulling my shorts off. It's actually pretty tough to type one handed. Pretty slow going. My right ass cheek is now hanging out to. He got a fist full of boxers now as well. Good times.
Screw it. I have to go drastic. I have to put all common sense aside so I can get some stuff done. Bacon has a philosphy of "I love dad so much that no one is allowed to love him at all". That basically means that he requires constant contact to ward off any other possible people that may want to hug me, touch me, walk near me. But I have a way out of this. I'm not proud but screw it.
I just gave him the Ipad. I know it's a 300 dollar piece of high tech gear that I have just given to a 2 year old toddler so that I may do something. Anything really, I don't even care. I just need to feel accomplished and take a break from the world of PAW PATROL WHY WON'T PUPS GO TO THE POUND!
Now I can write. Now I can be funny. Now I can listen to the wonderful classic "Let it go" around 1000 more times.