Everywhere we go, Laylee begs for “more doom please.” Sadly, she’s not tall enough to experience anything but the most juvenile form of doom. At the Houston Aquarium they have a miniature Drop of Doom with some pansy name like “The Magic Lighthouse” or something else equally inane. Luckily the girl can’t read so I introduced it to her as “The Drop of Doom” and to the protestations of Dan and Grammy I took her for a ride.
Why they would be concerned about her dropping in 2 story freefall repeatedly, I’ll never know. She almost didn’t have a meltdown on the seahorse merry-go-round so I thought she was certainly ready to try out something a little more adventurous. As per usual, I was correct.
Her commentary as we rode the ride one billion times consisted of 2 phrases repeated over and over again. “Hold tight to me Mommy” and “Again Please.”
Now everywhere we go, she’s on the lookout. “More doom PLEASE!” I’ll see what I can conjure up for you, sweet pea.
Due to the fact that Grammy and Papa are much smarter than Mom and Dad, sweet pea Laylee has developed some added creativity in her parental manipulation techniques.
After over an hour of swimming:
Papa: Okay kiddo, I think it’s time to get out.
Laylee: I don’t think so.
Papa: Oh really? Come on.
Laylee: No, my clock says it’s not time to get out.
Papa: You don’t have a clock.
Laylee: Yes I do.
Papa: Where is it?
Laylee: It’s right here. (pointing to a wet spot on the pool deck)
Papa: Oh really, and what does it say?
Laylee: It says it’s not time to get out yet.
Then last night at dinner, Laylee informed us that she needed to spit out the green bean in her mouth because her teeth were too tired to chew it. “My teeth are SO sleepy.” Yah-huh? Well, my uvula’s practically been in a coma for 3 weeks now and you don’t see me complaining. Chew the darn green bean.
Being out here in the Bible belt, Magoo’s picked up some added religiosity. Since we’ve been in Texas with Grammy and Papa, he’s not only learned to fold his arms for prayer but he has also been healed. Yes folks, he who was lame can now walk, or at least careen around like a flailing psychobot.