I know what you are thinking, “he’s not even ten months old, how can the Little Prince already find his callings?” And, “Callings? Plural? Is that even a thing?”
Well, for the son of the Jester, yes, apparently it is a thing.
For his first calling, we realized that the Little Prince had decided he wanted to be a rooster. We realized this after discovering him cock-a-doodle-dooing constantly. From his bed. From his high chair. From his room. From his car seat. It was hard to miss. Okay, fine, nothing wrong with wanting to be a rooster, they are a proud bird and have an important role.
Unfortunately, the Little Prince hasn’t quite got his internal clock worked out yet. So, his loud wailing, er, um, screaming, no, that’s not quite right either, his greetings to the morning (yes, let’s go with that) have been happening at all hours of the day and night. Seriously. All hours.
7AM – Cock-a-doodle-doo!! (Hey, good job. Yes, a new day is starting. Awesome.)
9AM – Cock-a-doodle-doo!! (Um, you arlready told us a new day was starting, but it is still morning, and maybe you were just really excited about being up and playing.)
12PM – Cock-a-doodle-doo!! (Wait a minute, what? Well, I guess it is lunch time, maybe he’s just happy about that.)
3PM – Cock-a-doodle-doo!! (No, kiddo, sorry, you aren’t supposed to herald the end of the day too. Just the start.)
7PM – Cock-a-doodle-doo!! (Argh, my head.)
1AM – Cock-a-doodle-doo!! (No, no, no, that’s just all kinds of wrong.)
3:45AM – Cock-a-doodle-doo!! (I think our rooster is broken…)
For his second calling, the Little Prince has decided to be a founding member of P.E.T.S.: People for the Ethical Treatment of Socks.
Much to my dismay he located my sock drawer and was shocked and appalled with the terrible living conditions I had forced upon my socks. Tight space. Low light. Terrible.
So, he took it upon himself to immediately start a campaign of freeing the socks and redistributing them, giving them all ample room to move about, and grow in a more healthy environment.
I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t know it was such a wrong thing. And, my excuse that “that was how I was raised,” doesn’t make it okay. I should have known better. I should have changed. And, I’m just so very proud of him for freeing my socks, without fear, without reservation, he really went to town on my sock drawer. It was mayhem.
I must admit I was second guessing his altruistic nature, though, when he carried one of the socks off… in his mouth…