What? Why? Are you talking to me? Am I still pregnant?

Still pregnant. No more to add on that front.

In other news, BB loves my impressions. I’m nowhere near as good as Trevor Noah or SNL, but I’m very decent at animals. That seems to be all I need for the toddler set.

A couple years ago before BB could talk, long before we entered the land of infinite why questions, BB and I took a baby development class. They mentioned that animal sounds are great “first words” for babies. And by animal sounds they meant things like: “moo, baa, oink, woof, neigh.” They did not mean my very realistic goat bleating from a mountain top.

I changed it up. I neutered my animal repertoire and other things started to talk, like BB’s breakfast cereals. Frosted mini wheats talk like Italian mob bosses. Granola talks like a California surfer dude. None of it was premeditated, so there’s no rationale.

The talking food has become so rampant that BB demands it. She was sitting at the table eating a snack and she said,

“Talk to me.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“No! Cereal bar, talk to me.”

Ah. Now I’m expected to switch to my cereal bar voice, which sounds a lot like Granola. I don’t have a huge range.

BB’s ability to suspend disbelief is impressive. The other day she was talking to Baby Bunny, her security bunny, she said,

“Sometimes I just call her Buns or Baby Buns. Buns?”

“Yes?” I say in my best baby bunny voice.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting your jammies out for sleepies.” Said in my mom voice.

“NOOO! I’m talking to Baby Bunny!”

“Oh! Hey! I’m ready to snuggle!” Reverting back to my baby bunny squeak.

And she resumes talking to Buns (me) like I didn’t just break character.

When I’m not speaking for all the inanimate objects in my home, I’m still answering a steady barrage of “why” questions.

I asked a veteran mom friend,

“When do the questions end?”


So I have to find a way to deal without losing my mind. I decide that I will remain as detached as possible, answer all the questions and try to conserve what brain power I have left.

After an entire lunch of answering whys, I am so zoned out that I’ve lost track of the line of questioning. I ask BB,

“What was the question again?”

“Just WHYYY?”


I knew I needed a kick stand

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