The “daddy is easier to say than mommy” urban legend

It’s our own fault, ladies. Think about it. Who are we constantly talking about? Who are we constantly directing junior’s attention to? Who is constantly on our minds?

(Okay that last one probably isn’t fair; post-baby, I am now often overheard saying, Mr. J, who??)

Think some more about it.

What is daddy doing? Why won’t daddy answer his phone? Why isn’t daddy home from work yet? What is taking daddy so long to [do anything]? Your daddy drives me crazy!! Quit acting like daddy!! 

Well, DUH. No wonder “daddy” is the first word out of their mouths. I also wonder why this revelation isn’t in the What to Expect books. Don’t we deserve a little heads up on what not to do to ruin this kid’s life?

On a side note, also useful would have been a little warning about how our hips immediately and massively explode after childbirth. Regardless of how the kid comes out. I labored in no way and did no real womanly work; and still the explosion. Does anyone else think that would have been helpful information to know pre-pregnancy?

“Dear innocent reader, remember that the best and most beautiful roses have thorns. Consequently, your body is going to be speeding-train-wrecking-ball-atomic-bomb-world-mass-destruction-WRECKED after childbirth. Are you sure you want to proceed?”

As I’m sitting here kicking myself for clearly saying “daddy” too much around Junior (and still upset about the hips situation) I think about several other things I wish I wouldn’t have taught my precious son quite yet:

How to push the buttons on my car remote. We’re sitting at a restaurant [patiently] waiting on our food, and I look out the window to see the trunk of my car opening.

Balls are cool. Now he shouts, “BA! BA! BA!” every single time he sees a ball (or ball-like object) and immediately and violently wants it. We’re no longer welcome at Target because of the “balls” outside their store.

Not to put my iPhone in his mouth. Now he just hits the white circle button over and over, randomly calls old friends I haven’t talked to since high school, and rearranges all of the icons on my home screen. Suddenly, I miss the slobber.

How to brush his hair. Using MY brush, he now thinks it’s cool to brush everything in sight. The carpet, the toilet, the wall, the dogs…

Grown ups under the age of 60 (Junior requires specifics) go potty in the bathroom, not in their pants. He is super interested in the toilet these days, which is good, I suppose, except I haven’t peed in private in the last 4 months. *TMI, I know.

While we’re on that subject…every time we strip him down for a bath, he turns around and pees all over the toilet. Then laughs hysterically. (I admit while I’ve potty trained a few cats and two dogs, I know nothing about potty training a human being. Is this normal?? I was hoping just to have the cat teach him…)

Where the cookies and crackers are. Okay, I did not actually teach him this, but clearly he has been spying on me because he knows precisely that the cookies are in the cabinet and the crackers are in the pantry. And then he stands underneath/outside of them, points, and shouts.

Daddy is cool. He’s not. In any way. Case in point:

With all said, I’m interested to know if those annoying mothers who constantly talk in third person around their children in a pitch that only dogs can hear have any higher a success rate in getting “mommy” as the first word. Don’t act like you don’t know those mothers. Mama’s gonna change your stinky-winky diaper! Mama’s got a bottle-wottle for the baby-waby! Mama’s going to tickle your wittle toesy-woseys! Mama’s gonna bite those wittle fingers off!

…Oh wait, I do this, too. And dada was still his first word. Crap…

This urban legend has also proved false. Ladies, I’m not sure where we go from here…

PSA: For more theories on urban legends, visit my post on baby sign language.

Images in this post courtesy of Wikipedia.

Photography courtesy of me.

All Things Unlearned chronicles my journey in unlearning everything I already thought I knew through my experiences as a wife, a mother, and an American through funny, overly-opinionated, witty, sometimes offensive, and yet always entertaining banter. Come be amused.