Mmmmmhh, armpits. Salty!
I have pretty much thought everything baby-from nursery furniture, to pre-schools to how Mr Candy -the dad-is going to change all the poppy diapers (okay,that conversation may have taken place in my head). That is, everything EXCEPT the approach to punishment. Who wants to think of that? Fingers crossed King K inherits his father’s genes so we don’t have to. Yes Mr Candy was the kind of kid who actually gave himself time-outs in the corner. Well because he would rather avoid all the noise. Till date.
I know, I know…. Wimp.
I,on the other hand- well,I possess the more dominant little-terror-from-hell gene that my mother is convinced I will pass to my baby.
In fact, she is praying that I do. She has uttered a prayer or two at the altar of karma. I was the kind of kid you hope you never encountered at the store. The kind of toddler who threw SCREEEEEAAAAMMMMING tantrums on the floor because mum tried to put my coat on. A monster of a mother she was! And do you know she eventually punished me.
She bit my cheek.
“And you shut right up.” Mom crows whenever she recounts the story. Which is quite often.
Of course I can’t recall the incident. My older sister had to clue me in years later. But believe you me,I am TRAUMATIZED.
So thank goodness my child will be an angel who obeys everything he is told and poops roses. Just to have all bases covered,however… I’m definitely sharpening my cuspids in the meantime. *CHOMP*
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