We're Lucky We Weren't Kicked Out

Somewhere buried deep in my weekend filled with sparkles and twirls, there was a lunch at Red Robin with a dance team. Now, personally I'm a fan of Red Robin because anywhere that has french fries is okay by me. I am, after all, the person who managed to eat french fries in 8 countries last year. It's my brand, so to speak.

I don't like Red Robin with Mila, though. That child is generally not fun to eat out with, especially when she wants to hang out with her sister and her friends but can't. Mila really SUPER loves big kids, so it's a form of torture for a group of them to sit at a separate table on the other side of a restaurant. She wants to be there. She wants to be the center of attention. That's her brand, so to speak.

When Mila wants to be the center of attention but isn't, she executes a plan. It's ... something. While Alexis has always had a tendency to turn quiet and observe grown-ups at every chance she gets (she loves to overhear grown-up gossip), Mila is all, FINE. EVERYTHING IS FINE. I'LL JUST BURN IT ALL DOWN.

In her quest to become the center of the universe, Mila managed to:

- Shove a french fry up her nose.

- Drink an entire milkshake in one big swig.

- Mix ketchup into her macaroni-n-cheese.

- Steal the pickle off of my veggie burger and mix it into her macaroni-n-cheese.

- Push all of the buttons on every single thing she could find.

- Empty my purse. Twice.

- Put the empty milkshake glass in my purse. Upside-down.

- Touch. Touch. Touch. Touch. Touch. HOW MANY HANDS DO LITTLE KIDS HAVE?

- Lick my face. Three times. As in, she leaned over, started giggling, and then licked my face like it was a lollipop or something.

And THAT, my friends, is how you make ten minutes feel more like ten hours.

You don't even want to know how she filled the other half hour we spent sitting there. Or maybe I don't want to remember it. That's very possible.

Big Kids. Man.

I don't write much about the Big Kid these days because she's to that age where her privacy matters. Mila may do funny/aggravating/hilarious/dumb stuff, but it's all the same funny/aggravating/hilarious/dumb stuff that every other kid her age does. Alexis is old enough to be ... unique.

AND YET.

There are some things that all kids her age do.

I won't tell the story of what exactly it is that she did, but I will say this:

To every parent of every toddler, know this. While you may feel unappreciated when you're cleaning up spilled water while stepping on a LEGO and cutting French Fries into tiny, bite-sized bits, YOU ARE WAY MORE APPRECIATED THAN YOU REALIZE. Little kids do get it. They do understand that grown-ups do a lot of things for them. They don't deeply appreciate it, but yet they kind of do because when they don't get the grown-up support they want exactly the way they want it, their world falls apart.

I once handed Mila a green spoon when she wanted a blue spoon. She most definitely informed me that I wasn't helping the way I was supposed to help. She so eloquently expressed her displeasure that I still remember it TWO YEARS LATER. That's appreciation!

Big kids, though! BIG KIDS APPRECIATE NOTHING. I mean, some days they do, but then other days they expect the universe to be handed to them on a platter and are genuinely shocked when it's not.

So, when you're feeling like your toddler doesn't appreciate you, remember something -- IT WILL GET WORSE. There may come a time when your kid turns to you, rolls her eyes, and whines, "You never do anything for me." Those words may fall out of their face on a day when you've been awake since 5:00 am because of a dance competition and after you survived a dance team lunch you weren't planning to throw together and and and and ... just know, the appreciation is headed straight downhill. Enjoy those little kid "thank yous" while you can.

(On the flip side, when big kids KNOW they've screwed up, they'll do things like clean the house ... So.)

All Dogs Go to Heaven

This isn't my story to tell, but sometimes a person leaves an impression that should be amplified. But first ... an explanation.

I follow a lot of furries on twitter. If you don't, I really don't understand why because furries are pretty much the only fun thing left there. The "theme" of twitter furry is essentially "have fun, enjoy life, call out anybody who stops others from having fun and enjoying life." So, basically, while 99% of twitter is screaming about dumpster fires, the furries are over there having a great time roasting s'mores over the dumpster fire. In fact, if you'd like to add a little furry fun to your timeline, might I suggest @merebeardoodles and @scrapperferret and @xxydexunicorn and @scratchkitty and ... well, I could go on for hours listing people who make the world a happier place, but I couldn't do it without listing @dogbomb1.

I didn't know Dogbomb, though obviously I crossed paths with him (that photo is from 2015 ... I have ran into him other years as well). And, man-oh-man, am I glad I crossed paths with him.

There's this thing I think about. I think about what I hope people say about me when I'm gone. I hope they say I made the world a better place. I try to do exactly that every day in small ways. Be it through Christmas Crazy, or by making sure I spend my money at places that support the things I support, or even just teaching my kids to be kind, I hope to leave a little sunshine in some dark corners.

Which is exactly what Dogbomb did.

I'm not here to tell his story. You should go read it for yourself. Go spend some time reading through his tweets. Just know a couple of things before you go -- 1) You're going to need some tissues and 2) There is a happy ending, but it's not the one you're going to want. Now ... go. Spend a few minutes with an amazing human as he spread a whole lot of positivity. I'm not going to fill in his story; you'll figure it out soon enough.