In Which I Shower With Redneck Mommy
There is a new Redneck in the blog park, and as custom done dictates a shower is being thrown. I know, it sounds like a waste of water, but don't worry, we already flushed the toilet this week. If I'm wasting anything, it's commas, and possibly away (in Margaritaville. Again.).
The lovely Tanis, aka Redneck Mommy, has welcomed a new child to the clan. That's clan with a 'c.' She's a redneck, but she ain't no idjit.
Tanis loves her family and her country, her beer, her boobs and her blog. Not necessarily in that order. I can't help but feel a connection there. A tingly one. That's not to say I wouldn't have to pay for it, but I'm betting she'd give me a decent discount- especially when you consider the exchange rate. But I digress.
In light of her family's happy addition I have been invited (by people with questionable judgment) to share what it is that makes me a redneck parent. I immediately thought of this post. I didn't think about this one or this one at all but saw them while I was digging around in the archives and figured they fit, kind of, so what the hell, right? Love me.
The thing is, I'm one of those very handsome elite types that you always see on the moving picture box, and as such I tend to think of redneck parenting as letting my kids read any book by John Grisham or doing sudoku with only six numbers. Super-sizing their Happy Meals and taking their cousin(s) to prom also come to mind (void if she's hot).
Now don't get me wrong, I don't believe that Tanis falls into this mold. We all know her "redneck" is a thinly masked euphemism for something a bit more...
Oh wait, this is a kid thing.
A sweet, new, welcome to the blog park kid thing, and that is just good ol' awesome no matter how many teeth you say it through.
Congratulations, Rednecks. You done good.