Oldster's Version of a Mommy Blog

The New York Times recently had a story about "mommy blogs" -- weblog stories by mothers of precocious children, all of whom will someday be President. A few of these are actually very good. Most are truly insipid. For example:

"7:14 a.m. -- My son Quincy the III was eager for his bath today, for some reason. Then I noticed him rubbing his rubber ducky on his wee wee. This was VERY upsetting; what if he turns into a rapist/serial killer? I would be SO embarrassed. His grandmother probably would cut him out of her will, which he is counting on to pay his way through hairdresser's school.

"7:20 a.m. -- I noticed there was cum on the rubber ducky. Oh, goodness, I opined to myself. Is he on steroids? Would he risk his baseball career just to get some early poon? Oh, readers, what should I do?"

And on and on, etc., ad infinitum. But what the heck. If this stuff sells, why can't we have an "Oldster's Blog -- Tales From The Home"? We can, and here it is:

6:30 a.m. -- I arose. Bones creak. Floor squeaks. Take a leak. Take a nap.

8 a.m. -- Read the newspaper. Failed to find my name in the obituaries for the 271,095th day in a row. Read story about papparazi trying to get pictures of Laura's bush.

9 a.m.-12 p.m. -- Nap. Sleep the sleep of the innocent.

Noon -- Lunch. Pretty good today -- green eggs and ham. Better than yesterday's owl pellets. Toothless Mary Typhoid complained that they forgot to puree her ham.

1-3 p.m. -- Nap. Tossed and turned. But, I wondered, turned into what?

3-5 p.m. -- Watched grass grow. Slow going today.

5 p.m. -- Dinner. Regurgitated catgut on toast, with a side of goose droppings. (I'm just guessing here.)

6-8 p.m. -- Nap.

8 p.m. -- Go to bed.

All in all, a busy day. I'm really tired. And tiresome.