I'm sitting here next to BB on the couch with a big Tonka truck filled with five rubber balls representing fruits. Lucy is playing Zelda and in her own world. Mama is at work, makin that sweet bacon like a baus.
I'd add to that definition "One who exceeds at being cool in a way that requires practiced skill."
So BB, in utter defiance of all I do around here, esp. the vacuuming I accomplished three minutes prior, just starts fucking throwing the rubber fruit out of the truck with this backassward over-the-side hand and motion. Onto the floor it lands, bouncing and scattered. I'm just like, 'Are you seriously fucking doing this right now, right in front of my face?'
But I said nothing. Keeping my cool, I just watched her throw them, planning my calm and self-affirming retribution.
What she wanted was the truck by itself to push around on the floor. So naturally, she had to have it emptied. Accomplishing that, she started sort of grabbing the side of the truck and going, "Eeh, eeh!" The general, "This is not right and you fix it for me," sound. So I put the truck on the floor for her.
She gets down off the couch and starts to push the truck away and out of my eyesight as I start asking her how that fruit is going to come off the floor. I had to raise my voice a click to get her to pick up the fruit. And when she did pick up all the fruit, I still told her, "Good job," and acted all excited and enthusiastic that she cleaned up this stupid shit on the floor that she shouldn't have thrown on there in the first place, but high-five her I did.
I start writing this blog about it directly afterward, and I look over at her and this is happening:
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I'd add to that definition "One who exceeds at being cool in a way that requires practiced skill."
So BB, in utter defiance of all I do around here, esp. the vacuuming I accomplished three minutes prior, just starts fucking throwing the rubber fruit out of the truck with this backassward over-the-side hand and motion. Onto the floor it lands, bouncing and scattered. I'm just like, 'Are you seriously fucking doing this right now, right in front of my face?'
But I said nothing. Keeping my cool, I just watched her throw them, planning my calm and self-affirming retribution.
What she wanted was the truck by itself to push around on the floor. So naturally, she had to have it emptied. Accomplishing that, she started sort of grabbing the side of the truck and going, "Eeh, eeh!" The general, "This is not right and you fix it for me," sound. So I put the truck on the floor for her.
She gets down off the couch and starts to push the truck away and out of my eyesight as I start asking her how that fruit is going to come off the floor. I had to raise my voice a click to get her to pick up the fruit. And when she did pick up all the fruit, I still told her, "Good job," and acted all excited and enthusiastic that she cleaned up this stupid shit on the floor that she shouldn't have thrown on there in the first place, but high-five her I did.
I start writing this blog about it directly afterward, and I look over at her and this is happening:
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