Over the past seven months, Ro has been, well, there’s no nice way to say this: a drunk asshole.
I’ve compiled a helpful list to paint a descriptive picture of what we have to live with these days. She has much enjoyed:
• slobbering on everything
• banging things against her head
• dropping things on the floor and then flailing around attempting to regain hold
• picking up food items with her entire palm and smashing them into her mouth (not without an immense smile as if that’s THE GREATEST food item EVER)
• shitting her pants and having to go home early
• passing out in public places
• drinking WAY too much for her own good (even though we tried to stop her after she housed a whole bottle) and then projectile vomiting
• pointing angrily at an object that she desires someone else get for her, often accompanied by lots of whining and caveman noises
• screaming and crying until someone puts on “her song.” Currently, it’s “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac.
• demanding to crawl into bed with you in the middle of the night to “cuddle,” only to pass out a second later. Drool puddle ensues.
• making fart noises with her mouth and then laughing HYSTERICALLY to herself about it
Little drunko also has two teeth, sits up unassisted, sticks out her tongue like a creepy-ass Slytherian (or that “I’m a snaaaaaaaaaake” guy from like 2002), has started to try to crawl, and feeds herself. Progress y’all, progress.