I honestly sing this song by Juvenille in my head all the time... but only the "She get it from her Mamma" part, I don't know the rest of the words, honestly, I'm a white girl who listens to KLove only- peace out.
So ANYWAYS- Today, my little punk is 2 months old, and no I won't go on and on about how big she is, how old she is, or how fast it has gone, because it hasn't gone that fast. One day I'll look back and go WOAH! Or possibly even LIKE WOAH! But, not today, or yesterday, or tomorrow, I revel in each day, so much that I reek of spit up, revel in that! :) But I was thinking, my 2 month old pictures look quite a bit like my punk, because well duh, she get it from her MAMMA! :) Some things at least!
Tonight, I put her to bed at 8:13 and she was asleep by 8:45, early bedtime? SHE GET IT FROM HER MAMMA! (You can sing that if you like, in your head of course, because it is not like you'd be reading this out loud anyway...)
When in aforementioned bed, she wiggled her little wormy body in her sweet sleep sack (A bag like contraption you zipper your child into for torture, scratch that, comfort without a blanket.) all the way to the side of her bed, right next to her mamma. I slept with my parents until I was 14, legs entangled with my mamma, altogether now, SHE GET IT FROM HER MAMMA!
Farts, need I say more? She get it from her mamma. (Should that be embarrassing? It so is not, it's a scientific fact, everyone farts, shocking? I know!)
Her sweet dark hair, she get it from her mamma.
Her sense of extreme flexibility with change- she DOES NOT get from her mamma! This child will go with the flow, change of pants, she's game, change to a new outfit, sold! Not this woman- don't change your hair color without warning, I might feel nervous. Don't move, I will think you're leaving me. Don't change anything, okay? I like my little world just the way it is, thank God Brooke got that flexibility for change from her daddy!
And so, in my head I am hearing...
Oh, where she get her eyes from? She get it from her mamma... (Who knows!)
Oh, where she get her thighs from? She get it from her mamma... (Probably, poor kid)
Where she learn how to cook from? She get it from her mamma... (I hope so, or else she will only eat macaroni and hot dogs, and REALLY have some thighs to sing about!)
Oh, where she get them looks from? She get it from her mamma... (Uh huh, yaaaaaaaa hahaha)
But where she get that bootie from? She get it from her mamma... (I love my black girl bootie, I hope she gets it! Oh an Puh-LEASe, don't be offended.)
But where she get her class from? She get it from her mamma... (Clearly, classy is my middle name.)
Oh, where she get that chest from? She get it from her mamma... (That is inappropriate, but some day, we'll pray for it)
Where she learn how to dress from? She get it from her mamma... (Yes Brooke, follow my lead)
Oh Juvenille, she get it all from her Mamma.