This is a guest post. Our special guest poster is Buster: Age 2.
From the beginning, it’s always been me and my big brother – and Mommy and Daddy, of course, but that goes without saying.
I don’t know where I came from, but I know where I’m going. I’m going to wherever my brother is playing, and whatever he’s building I’m knocking down – Buster style. That’s his idea of fun, which is why I don’t understand how it makes him pout so much. For my part, I do what I’m supposed to do.
One day, I noticed that Mommy was getting a little extra round in the middle. At first, I thought she was just hitting McDonald’s extra hard. But she kept getting bigger. It looked like she swallowed a soccer ball, and I’ve never seen them serve soccer balls at McDonald’s. Eventually, it got to look like she had a basketball in her belly. That was okay with me; I like balls. They’re fun to throw at people. But who am I kidding? Anything you lift in your hand is fun to throw at people.
One day, Mommy pointed to her basketball and told me it was a baby. I was a little disappointed about losing the ball, but I like babies too. They’re small and cute, just like little, mini toddlers. It’s a shame they have to grow up. Also, baby is an easy word for me to pronounce.
Anyhow, I worried for a minute that Mommy had eaten a baby, cause that doesn’t seem right. Upon mature reflection, I considered this physically improbable. For one thing, the baby stayed in her belly. Everything I eat ends up in my diaper.
Everybody liked the baby in Mommy’s belly. Sometimes Daddy would look at it and wink at Mommy, all smug and proud of himself. Really, Dude? Like you had something to do with it?
The one thing that confused me was how a baby got in there and how it was going to get out. I guess that’s two things, but somebody should probably send me to school if they want accurate math from me. That baby was only getting bigger and I didn’t want it to pop Mommy. She’s my favorite parent. I know, we’re not supposed to have favorites, but it is what it is.
There’s a lady who looks a lot like Mommy that we often talk to on Mommy’s iPad. I kind of know her name, but I can’t pronounce it yet. One day, she showed up at our house. We were hanging out, having some laughs, when it dawned on me that I hadn’t seen Mommy or Daddy in a while. I was a little worried, but that lady is nice, so I held it together. Later, she took me to get my brother from school. Then we went to this big hotel place.
I’ll be damned if Mommy and Daddy hadn’t checked themselves into their own room!
And BAMM! Mommy’s holding a little baby. And Mommy’s belly isn’t like a basketball anymore. So I’m looking at the baby, and I’m looking at her belly. Look at the baby; look at her belly. My eyes are bouncing back and forth. Baby; belly. Baby; belly. And I’ll be a son of gun if that’s not the baby from inside her belly!
By and by, everybody comes home, and this includes the little baby. I like him. He’s pretty cute – reminds me of somebody I know. Mommy lets me hold him on my lap and kiss him on the cheek. And one time when I was kissing him, it dawned on me. This kid might be my little brother. Ha! What a crazy world!
I hope he is my little brother. Then I’ll have somebody to knock down my toys for me when I’m playing. That will be awesome! Way better than just another basketball. I can’t wait.
But I still can’t figure out where he came from.
Aw, adorable!! Congratulations!! Let me hold him!! 🙂
Ok. You’ve got the 2-4 a.m. shift.
Congratulations, Scott! When I first saw the picture, I thought, “Has it been that long?!” Apparently so … I hope you’re all doing well!
Thanks, Traci. It has truly been that long.
Bahaha! Love this!
Thanks. We can both look forward to answering questions on this topic in the future. Are you ready?
The Destroyer doesn’t care where her baby came from. She just doesn’t want him to touch her stuff, or she beats the shit out of him, lol.
I guess you’re off the hook, then.
What will you say when he asks how his little brother got into mommy’s belly? Mine is almost six and hasn’t asked that one important question yet, but feels that he is expert on the subject. I know it’s coming…
I will send him to Mommy. As he has already determined, I have nothing to do with it.
Thanks. I’ll tell Buster.
Congratulations, your son has pretty good blogging skills for a two-year old. You need two more boys for a full basketball team, don’t quit now that you are 60% of the way there.
Do you realize how cruel it is to throw baby-making goals at an old man? But 60% is almost there . . .
If you had twins it would be all over in one shot. Give it some thought.
That sounds like a reasonable gamble. Maybe we’ll try it.
Congratulations! Now you have a trio.
And they’re all percussionists.
Wow! This must be one of the BEST and endearing things I’ve read on this site. Or any site for that matter. This is excellent and if not Freshly Pressed, well then I just give up. On everything. Ok, maybe that’s a bit dramatic.
And I know you might not be in to that kind of thing, I’m just saying… I like to look out for my friends. (By the way, we’re friends right?)
Keep these kind of comments coming and we’ll be friends for a long time. You like hanging around inflated egos, right?
Yes I do. Fits in perfectly with mine.
My god, has it already been nine months? Congratulations to you and your family, Buster! And I happen to agree with Pieter here: Any two year old that says “Upon mature reflection, I considered this physically improbable.” deserves to get Freshly Pressed!
I’m serious, I think it would fit the occasion if the good people at WordPress picked up on this one. I for one think this is one of your funniest and at the same time most heartwarming posts I ever read, and that’s not even taking into consideration this is your debut. This post was better than most posts your dad puts out, and they’re very good, so I can only imagine what the future will bring for you:P
As Buster’s agent, I will pass along your comments to him. He may laugh or he may cry, or he may throw something at me. It’s hard to say how a two-year-old will respond to a compliment on any given day. So I thank you on his behalf.
And give my regards to Buster–from one middle child to another. Tell him it’s not so bad as long as he learns to lay on the guilt to his parents for neglecting him. 😉
Thanks. Buster has a way of making himself hard to ignore. Maybe that’s his defense mechanism.
You better get Buster an agent!
Somebody in this family should have one.