Living with my 18 month old son is like living with a frat boy. Imagine a love child between Will Ferrell, John Belushi, and Chris Farley. That’s my boy. He staggers around naked yelling words I can’t understand, laughing and dancing and throwing and breaking things. His things are everywhere and he never helps clean up. He wakes me up screaming or ready to party at 2 in the morning, then he passes out and I have to carry him back to bed. He strip down naked and then finds it necessary to bend over in my face every ten seconds. That’s just lovely, by the way. He shoves his hand in his pants or his fingers in his nose, releases gas with great gusto and glee, and every now and then he throws up or pees in the corner. Those of you living with more than one child must feel like you have a whole frat house.

Go Deltas!