The Queen and I hang out with Michelle:
Michelle: What's your kid up to these days?
Me: Crawling. Like, all over the freakin' place.
Queen: And he's losing his monkey toes.
Michelle: His what?
Queen: You know, if you touch the sole of a newborn baby's foot how his toes will kind of curl up around your finger? Like he's trying to hang onto a branch or something?
Michelle: Right, right.
Queen: His toes don't do that as much anymore.
Me: Also, we finally took him in and had his monkeytail amputated. His balance has been all screwed up ever since.
Michelle: You should totally tell him that when he gets older.
Me: Oh, I will. "Yeah, you were running and swinging all over the house when you were three months old. But then we had your tail cut off, and you had to relearn how to walk." I wonder if I could get an actual tail somewhere, put it in a jar of formaldehyde and keep it as "proof?"
Queen: He'll probably take it to school for Show and Tell ...
Me: Hah! Oh man, that will be great. I love being a parent.
Queen: Other fathers can't wait until their child is old enough to play sports or hold a conversation; you, you're just waiting until he's old enough to hornswoggle.
Me: It's so true. I guess I could start now, buy a big rubber breast or something.
Michelle: I bet my husband would loan you his.