1 in 7 home kitchens would flunk inspection – Health – Food safety – msnbc.com.

Unfortunately, Turbo did not want to cooperate for long, so we were unable to finish styling his legs. He did well, though. It took about two hours, and by the time we were done, the shaved fur piled on the floor looking like another whole animal.

But I’m not sure he will ever forgive us for this.

In fact, I’m pretty sure he will remember this forever.

We’re sorry, Big Turb. I guess you don’t exactly feel like you’re Turbo the Terminator anymore, do you?

Because who in their right mind would want to just have a cake and not eat it? It’s not like saving it doubles its value. You can’t resell it. So by golly, if someone gives me a cake, I’m damn well going to eat it! Not just admire it. Or save it until it goes stale. Or use it for murder. I’m going to cut it up into delicious pieces and CONSUME THAT SHIT.

So will someone tell me, what is the point in having a cake if you can’t eat it? FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS CHOCOLATE, someone please tell me!

So the only thing he’s really behind on is talking. By now, he should be using at least 4-10 words regularly. He doesn’t. He’s said numerous words… like cat, dump truck, car, what’s that, truck, dog, book, six, seven, ten (and a few other numbers)… but he’s only said them a handful of times and then he just stops saying them. He doesn’t use any word regularly. The pediatrician says it’s very common with stubborn kids, which was established when Nathan was nine months old and stubbornly holding in his poop, making himself constipated.

I also didn’t talk much when I was his age. My mom said that I said my first sentence when I was 19-months old, and she was completely shocked because it came out of the clear blue. She said she had a habit of tripping on the stairs, and as she was going down them, I said “Be careful, Mommy.” Then, I didn’t say anything else until I was about two-years old, and when I did, it was as if the flood gates had been opened.

But to be on the safe side, if his vocabulary hasn’t increased in a month or two, his pediatrician would like to refer him to a speech therapist to have him evaluated.

So, other than that, the little man is doing great! He’s happy, healthy, and totally Nathan.

So I noticed he was playing with something today. Something small, and I couldn’t quite make out what it was. It looked like maybe a wad of lint or hair. I watched him drop it on the floor, poke at it much like a cat poking at a cornered mouse, and then he picked it up back up and held it to his face, scrutinizing it. Then, he opened his mouth really wide and right as Nathan was about to plop it into his mouth, I scooped in and took this unknown object out of his hand.

To my complete horror, I discovered he was about to EAT A DEAD SPIDER.

A DEAD SPIDER!

I don’t know how long it had been dead. I don’t know if Nathan killed it, or found its curled-up carcass in the dark recesses under his changing table or perhaps under his toy chest. All I know is that I am seriously freaked out right now.

I mean, EW!

EW! EW! EW!

And then I started thinking about that welt on his leg that appeared the other day. That angry, swollen welt caused undoubtedly by some spider. Some stupid, piece of shit spider that bit my little boy. This spider could very well have been The One. I mean, it just looks like it would bite someone for no reason.

And it was missing two legs. I DON’T EVEN WANT TO KNOW WHY. 

All I can say is if that was the same spider, vengeance was very obviously served cold. Sweet, sweet retribution.

Oh man, oh man. I can’t believe my son was playing with that thing! I can’t believe he ALMOST ATE IT. I am so very glad I stopped him before he did… that would have been GROSS! Can you imagine? Spider guts gushing into your mouth? Little prickly legs sliding down your throat? Ok, I think this has obviously affected me more than it did Nathan. My Lord. I’m totally going to be completely gray before this child grows up.