Frankie's Laws

When Frankie, Floyd and I got to camp last week, I was very excited to show Cody all the cute pictures I had taken during our few days downstate. Of course, a half-full bottle of water decided to spill in my bag thus trashing all its contents-- including the camera. SWEET. Pictures are gonzo and I have to buy a new camera.

AWESOME.

What is that?? It surely can't be my fault that the bottle leaked. Is it bad luck? Faulty water bottle? Murphy's Law? I don't know, but I can tell you that my life seems to be governed by lots of laws lately, and as far as I know--they're not filed with the State of Michigan.

They all come from Princess Frankie and they go a little something like this:

Wherever you go, if you bring two diapers with you, I will crap myself three times.

When we go out, no matter what you bring me to eat, I will decide I don't like it anymore and it shall go on the floor. Oh, Floyd is not in the restaurant to eat my scraps? Not my problem.

If you forget to place a new diaper below my tushie when you are changing me out of the old one, I WILL PEE while you're changing me, it will travel under my butt and up my back, and it will thoroughly soak both the changing pad and the back of the new clothes you probably paid too much for just to have me pee all over them.

I will no longer give you any trouble when you put me down for my nap or at night, but I'm gonna get up at 6:00 am every morning. Deal with it.





There will be no water intake. Water sucks--Sippy cups suck. No stupid song you sing or "bop, bop, bop" on my nose with said sippy cup is going to get me to drink water. Stop trying.





No Shoes, No Service? I think not. I'm not going to wear shoes and I will get service.





Sometimes, just to keep you on your toes, I will fall asleep in your arms and when you put me in my crib I will "fake sleep" until you go to leave and then I will cry- HARD.





Right after you wipe my face and nose, I will sneeze and even MORE boogers and drool will come out.





If I feel the need for you to hold me, that will be precisely the same time that Floyd is ready to come in and he needs his paws wiped. You can't put me down though... Good luck with that.




I might give you hell when you put me down for a nap, but I'll fall asleep in the car in 2 seconds flat when we're on our way to dinner.




If I am ready to "High 5" you, you will accomodate my hand in the air, even if I'm looking to do it 50 times in a row. My "High 5's" will NOT be ignored. EVER. One must never ignore the "High 5."





By law I only poop in restaurants that don't have changing tables. That's just how it is. Your only options are to change me in a stall or let me stink up the restaurant. You will consider letting me hang out in my own poop while finishing dinner because your thoughts are hazy and your head will be is spinning from my Southern region stench. You will ultimately conclude that changing me in a cramped stall can't be nearly as bad as some of the places you were forced to change me in China, so you will go for the stall. The toilet will be equipped with an electronic flusher. You will put me down as gingerly as possible and bend over on the dirty, nasty floor (back will be killing you) --and you will sweat your ass off trying to change the explosion in my dipe, (all the while trying not to let my head touch the ground). Sweat beads will continue to build on your brow and in between your ta-tas. The flusher will go off incessantly because it is confused by all the movement and some of the toilet water will spray your back. As you try to pull apart baby wipes with one hand, you will curse your stall vs. stench decision, curse the restaurant for being too cheap to install a changing table, and curse all poop everywhere as the people hanging in the bathroom will glance at each other and ask themselves just what the HELL is going on behind our door...





I will only stay up coughing all night when we're home, and it's just you, and you have a meeting with a prospective new client the next day. I will never do that when we're at camp and Daddy is there to deal with it.




Just when you think you're done cleaning the kitchen, you will remember that you forgot to clean that "stupid high chair."




Squash that goes in will look exactly the same when it comes back out. (That is not a Frankie law--it's just a law).




You will leave a big tips at all restaurants to make up for me leaving tons of food around the floor of my high chair. As you apologize to everyone in the restaurant, they will tell you how cute I am and I will continue to throw whatever food, napkins or silverware I can reach that may still be left on the table.




I now make you laugh way more than I make you cry so you will herein abide by all the above laws until I decide to change them...and that will probably be tomorrow.