I hope all of you beautiful mothers out there had a great Mother’s Day. You all deserve it. Hopefully you got what you wished for, and then some.

I noticed a disturbing little trend regarding Mother’s Day. Moms tend to ask for manual labor for Mother’s Day. A few guys I checked in with were painting, hanging stuff around the house, building an addition on the house, digging a pool in the backyard or cleaning out the basement, all as their Mother’s Day gift for their spouses.

How come fathers don’t do the same for Father’s Day? I am going to ask wifesense to change my transmission, rotate my tires, change every battery in all the electronic equipment in the house and take out the trash on Father’s day. Done and Done! Or a new tie and a case of beer will do.

My son got up extra early this morning and I got to play with him for about an hour before work, so my Monday started off awesome, which is a rarity.

While getting ready this morning something occurred to me. Wifesense takes about 4.8 hours to get ready in the morning. (I think they call it putting on their game face, or something.) She gets up around 3 in the morning on Sunday and is ready to leave by noon on Tuesday.

You know what the funny thing about all of this is? If I exceed 20 minutes in the bathroom, I get the 3rd degree.

Are you ready? What are you doing in there? I am going to be late? What is taking you so long? I cannot believe you are taking so long. Did you get lost? Are you okay? Where are my shoes? Do you need help? Are you listening to me? How come you aren’t listening to me? Are you ready yet? We’ll be waiting downstairs and pacing around while you finish up! We’ll be in the car, so don’t bother drying off.

That is awesome.

I came downstairs this morning and looked at our refrigerator door, which has been camouflaged with pictures and finger painting, now I have trouble finding it, let alone being able to open it up without anything falling off of it. I noticed an ultrasound picture of baby number 2.

How can an ultrasound technician honestly read one of these suckers? I think they are full of it, and then it occurred to me about how they can tell if it is a boy or girl. I examined the picture very closely and I noticed that the baby was holding a real tiny remote control, so they assumed it was a little boy.

I asked our ultrasound technician how they can tell and she confirmed my suspicion: If the baby is holding a remote control, it is a boy and if the baby appears to be asking for directions out of the womb, then it is a girl. So there you have it.

Here are 5 things I learned while communicating with my son, that I have incorporated into my work life:

One

1) I make it a point to talk to my boss in baby talk. I called her a silly-willy about 8 times on Friday. “Who’s the silliest-williest boss I know? You are, yes YOU are! A-occhie-coochie-cue, who is the ticklest boss in the whole wide world? You are!”

Two

2) When I am done eating my lunch at my desk, I smear the remaining food all over the top of the table. If I am eating pasta, I just dump the bowl on my head. This signals to everyone that lunch is over for Walt.

Three

3) I make sure I go Ernie at least 4 times a day. This is the craziest phenomenon going for me and wifesense. We have always used Pampers for diapers. The Pampers people use a collection of Sesame Street character on their diapers. They use a rotation of Cookie Monster, Elmo, Zoë and Ernie. Almost every time we put an ‘Ernie’ diaper on our son, he promptly craps all over the diaper. This has about a 98.2% rate of happening, so we have officially labeled going number 2, going Ernie. Either it is just pure coincidence, or my son really hates Ernie, I am leaning towards the latter. He doesn’t hold Ernie in too high of regards.

Four

4) I will continue to speak in the 3^rd person as I refer to myself as ‘Daddy”. “Daddy is going to go make some photo copies.” “Its okay apple eaters, Daddy’s here!” “Good morning everyone, Daddy is going to bring this presentation home for you!”

Five

5) I will cry and hold my breath until the apple eater sitting next to me picks me up and burps me. Or I will point and make grunting sounds until the apple eater gives me her soda. It seems to work with my son. Throwing a tantrum always works.

Walt's got work to do.Now get back to work people! Daddy has to get some shiznit done today, before his silly-willy boss comes in tomorrow. I think I feel a massive Ernie coming on too…