So the other morning we're lying in bed talking and Jackson is wandering around the apartment doing his early morning thing, and I hear him go into the kitchen and open up the refridgerator. I figure he's going to get himself a cup of water from the flat vertical water jug thing like I taught him, but all of a sudden he appears at our bedside, lifts up a cold Corona, and says, "Dada!"
That thing I said about teaching him to bring me cappuccinos? Fuck it. If we start teaching him how to use the blender now, it'll be Cadillac margaritas with rock salt by the time Wimbeldon starts.