C. Franz and the Wacky Things He Says

Fuck the 'Lection

I got other things in my life. I'll save my indignation and dissapointment for when I'm drunk. Oh, about two hours from now.

Speaking of the bottle, I am trying to get my two year old daughter to get off of hers. This little gremlin can go through almost a half gallon of organic fat-free milk a day. And that shit ain't free. You pay the extra price for them to keep the Bovine Growth Hormone out of the milk (shouldn't it cost more to have it in there?) Anyway, I don't want her to grow boobies at seven, call me traditional.

She should have been off the bottle a year ago, but she would pitch a royal fit every time we wouldn't give her one. And neither the wife and I have the werewithal to battle her over it. And this monster will use every manipulation at her disposal to extract a bottle from us. Smiles, kisses, tantrums, "i uv you dadddi," giggles, 'mo gaga mo gaga!"

So today was the day. No more bottles for Margot. Nope. Forty-seven minutes. That's how long my resolve lasted. My daughter actually batted her eyes at me. Little bitch. "Please daddy? Gaga?" I gave her two.