For those of you who don’t stay up toward the ‘crack enough to see the Lumosity commercials with the dumb short-haired girl cheesing out that it’s “serious brain training” with an animated light bulb over her head, I hate you for getting more sleep than me. For the rest of you, you know you want to try that infomercially goodness, don’t you?
The more I think about stuff, the more important it is for me to get my way about it. But especially with my sister’s baby-naming process.
As mentioned in my previous My Sister’s Pregnant blog, which sort of went viral with its impregnated self, my proposal to insert my name into the “Middle” slot of the birth certificate has been psychotically submitted, with the words “DO THIS (if you know what’s good for your baby’s future)!” on the cover page and lots of footnotes in the shape of actual baby feet. Too aggressive, or just right?
As a neurotic young man growing up in rural Ohio, rare was the night when I’d sleep in my own bed. Not because I was getting some play before my time, but because I was pretty sure someone was trying …