I turned on the tee vee after church on Sunday, mainly because I couldn't let the kid have a nap, because I had errands to run and there was nobody to watch him. Blah blah blah.
Anyway, so I turned on the tee vee, and it just so happened that the channel was already on Fox, which just so happened to be showing a Nascar race.
(let it be noted that, although I lived a significant portion of my adult life in Charlotte, N.C., I do NOT particularly like Nascar. At all.)
The baby, however (who, yes, is almost five. Shut it.), was FIXATED ON THE TEE VEE.
"This is my show!" He proclaimed.
Oh.
"THAT IS ME." He announced, pointing at #22, Kurt Busch (I swear to God I didn't know who number 22 was before this experience.)
At the time, Kurt/Doodlebug was in fifth place. Eventually, they took over the lead for about 75 laps.
Yes, you figured that right. I am at the mercy of a small child and cannot even determine what show we will be watching. I am, it seems, his bitch.
Kurt/Doodle didn't win, but they had a good race.
"I didn't win," he said.
"You ran a good race, though," I said.
Oh God. I encouraged him in this endeavor.
You can take the kid out of the North Georgia redneck land, but, you can't take the redneck out of the kid.
Guess what we'll be watching on Sunday?
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