“I think Conor likes Dad more than me,” I joked to Aidan while I tucked him into bed.
“Nah, Mom, they’ve just really bonded,” he replied, yawning.
Man, don’t you just love that kid?
I do think Conor prefers Jim to me. I can see why.
Jim’s loads of fun… running in the house, tickling, zerberting each other, screaming with laughter.
They have this whole shtick where Conor is a penguin and Jim is a shark. (Sharks eat penguins, apparently.) And Jim tickles Conor until he’s blue in the face. They wrestle around and create general mayhem in the house.
“Conor’s a penguin!” Jim will yell.
“Daddy’s a shark!” Conor yells back. Tickling and screaming ensues, accompanied by rolling around on the floor in some sort of scrum.
Jim also has bit with Conor that my son just loves. I have no idea how it started, but Conor calls it “doing jokes”.
“Zerbert my shirt!” Conor starts. Jim makes a farting noise. (With his mouth, I feel compelled to say. I don’t know why.)
“Zerbert my pants!” Conor continues. Phszzzzt goes Jim.
“Zerbert my underwear!” he giggles and shouts.
“NEVER! I will never zerbert your stinkin’, rottin’, smelly underwear!” Jim retorts loudly, bobbing Conor’s head around his neck. (It’s really quite amazing.)
Conor’s screams of laughter continue. (And I do mean screams. Loud.)
Somehow, I don’t get the same reaction when I make Conor set the table, change the sheets on his bed, do the laundry or use the leaf blower. Go figure.
When I mentioned this to my husband, he told me that maybe if I gave up high-fives as easily as he does, Conor would like me better.
I almost pee'd my pants when I saw this. Stupid-Hilarious.