Betsy: Man, I can’t get this Justin Bieber song out of my head! …It’s probably my own fault, though, since I listened to it 3 times in a row today.
Todd: You what?
Betsy: C’mon! It’s a good song!
(Betsy starts singing “Somebody to Love”)
Seth: Mama! No sing! Yucky!
(Betsy stops singing. Seth thinks for a moment.)
Seth: Me like “Old McDonald” song.

Todd: I’m thinking about shaving off my beard. I think the scratchiness of it bothers him when we cuddle face-to-face, and that’s one of my favorite times. Maybe I should give it a few more days, though, just to confirm that theory – he might just be bothered that my beard is not a breast.

Betsy: You could always try latching him on (have him start nursing at Todd’s breasts) and see what he thinks. That would be a new and unique experience for both of you, I’m sure.

Todd: Uh, I think I’m going to pass on that. On the other hand, if we did, and we took pictures – think of the blackmail potential once he reaches high school! He’d have to do everything we say!

Quote of the day:
“That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen not on the Internet.”

– Todd, while watching foam emerge from places that one usually doesn’t expect foam

Todd: blah blah blah blah when we are breast-feeding blah blah blah.

Betsy: I like how you said “when we are breast-feeding”.

T: Oh! Uh, actually, that came out subconsciously – I wasn’t really thinking about what I was saying.

B: No, it’s nice.

T: Well, yeah, it’s true – while obviously there’s parts of that process that I can’t do, we’re still a team, and it’ll be my job to take care of you while you’re doing it. I’ll be in charge of making sure that you get good food going in the front end, so you have good stuff going out the back end. Er, maybe not the back end – more like the middle end.

B: You mean my belly-button?

T: Exactly.

B: That’ll be fun – I’ll be squeezing out food through my belly button like a Play-doh Fun Factory. It’ll be coming out like tiny little vienna sausages, all connected together in a long chain. I can swing it around my head, and all the neighborhood dogs will go chasing after it.

T: But won’t it break up? I imagine it’ll fall apart, like a sausage without a casing. It won’t be very firm.

B: Oh, it’ll be firm. My vienna sausages will come out firm enough to stand up and do your taxes, sucka.

Apparently, the plan is to find someone who thinks that the people who said the above dialogue are currently more prepared to raise a child than she is.  Wow.