Wontcha Be My Neighbor?

Sorry non-breeders, but it’s time for another installment of Maggie Moo’s Neighborhood. I try to keep posts about the fruit of my loins few and far between because my wife has this angle covered in her blog, but she always uses a soft focus and a silver lining, so every once in awhile I like to keep it real.

Moo is becoming the queen of the catch phrase. She is the Kenny Mayne of Cosworth Terrace. Her big phrases are “Alright Da-Da”, which she says relentlessly, and “Ohhhh Nooooo!”. Of course she has that cutesy little voice that makes everything sound so sweet. She called Barbara Walters a stupid twat the other day, but the way she said it, just made you go aaaaaaah you’re such an angel.

I will admit it is kind of nice getting reassurance from my daughter for everything I do. I make dinner, I get an “Alright Da-Da”. I use the bathroom, I get an “Alright Dad-Da”. I call the opposing team’s quarterback a fucking date rapist, I get an “Alright Da-Da”. That’s my girl!

While the “Alright Da-Da” is money, the “Ohhhh Nooooo!” sucks sweaty, monkey balls. She thinks she has the right to be a total asshole, as long as she says “Ohhhh Nooooo!” after it. She’ll throw her milk off the table for the tenth time “Ohhhh Nooooo!”. She’ll rip pages out of a book “Ohhhh Nooooo!”. The other morning she broke my glasses, just ripped them apart while I was in the shower, and all I heard was “Ohhhh Nooooo!”. Maggie, WTF? “Ohhhh Nooooo!” is not the “Bless Your Heart” of the South. You do not get immunity for your actions by saying “Ohhhh Nooooo!”. I wish it worked that way, because I would immediately ram my car into the jagoff who comes to a dead stop in a merging lane, then I’d rip out their eye balls and skull fuck them. When I was done, I would just go “Ohhhh Nooooo!”, and then go about my day.

Moo is also starting to put together words and actions, especially when it comes to songs. When we play “The Wheels on the Bus” she goes through the various dance moves that go along with the song. (I am using the term “dance moves” very loosely here.) She rolls her arms, rubs her eyes, waves her hands and shushes us, right on queue. This is cute, except when the 69 Boyz “Tootsie Roll” comes on and she grinds out her booty dance to the howls of the brothers singing “Let me see that tootsie roll”, then she pours a little milk out of her sippy cup onto the floor as if it were a 40oz. “This is for my homies who can’t be with us today.” Maggie your 18 months old, I’m pretty sure all of your homies are doing just fine. Besides, it’s kind of hard to do a drive-by while being pulled in a Radio Flyer wagon.

Finally, Moo has a new favorite TV show, Blues Clues. Apparently, Yo! Gabba, Gabba is sooooo last summer. When Steve or Joe, depending on the episode, comes on, she sits on the floor, yells boos coos about a thousand times and then sways to the music, like a stoned hippie at the original Woodstock. If you haven’t seen the show, the host goes around and collects three clues that will solve the mystery for the day. The mystery usually centers around something that Blue (the dog) wants to do. The host has a note pad to keep track of the clues, and then he sits in the thinking chair to figure it all out. So if the host has a picture of a camel, a woman, and a table support, they would conclude: Blue wants to hump Mommy’s Leg today. Hey! “We just figured out Blues Clues, because we’re really smart!”

Which reminds me that it’s time for me to go and hump Mommy, I just hope that I get an “Alright Da-Da”, and not an “Ohhhh Nooooo!” when I’m done.