Tina and I are those people … those pet people.
When we go grocery shopping, we wear our matching t-shirts with Talulah’s dear face screen printed on them.
Or when we go to Target, we wear our matching Zoe hats.
While other parents tell nauseatingly endless stories about their kids and laugh, we tell Talulah stories and laugh. We go out of our way to make sure you’ve reached the end of your rope. And then we tell you another story just to seal the deal. When you’re back in the privacy of your home, you say, “Gosh, Jeremy and Tina are nice and all, but freaking let up on the Talulah stories! I mean, I didn’t get to finish my story about little Johnny picking his nose and then eating the booger!”
And then we email you a picture of Talulah sniffing her butt.
Talulah is like a child to us, though. Just like other parents, we leave our child alone for hours at a time. Talulah isn’t allowed on the furniture unless she’s invited, and if we come home and notice the couch pillows are awry, we point at the couch and say, “Ta-lu-lah … What is this? Talulah? Wha…”
And Talulah lowers her head with shame, cowers into a ball, and faces the other way. She often army crawls out of the room.
Or at night, we tell her to go to bed, which is a large dog pillow just beside my side of the bed.
Everyone has snuggled down, and the lights go off. And then we hear Talulah stir. Usually that means she wants to get up in bed. To which we say, “Talulah, go lay down. Go to bed.” But sometimes she gets up to retrieve her Alligator squeezy squeaky toy that we call Talulah’s baby.
She finds it where ever it is in the house, brings it back to bed and cuddles with it.
See, Talulah is sooooo cute, don’t you think?