A couple tools short of a diaper bag.

“You know Río, Mommy is posting dialogues again.  She thinks she’s funny.  Pass me a screw driver, would ya?”

“Phillips or flat head?   She’s getting some mojo flowin’, is she?”

“Mojo?  That might be going a little far.  But she shaved her legs while I pelted her with rubber ducks last night.  I heard her say that she is finally starting to recover from three years of sleep deprivation.  Hmm, what do we have for bonding agents?”

“Glue gun or welding torch.  Sleep deprivation?  Isn’t that how they extracted illegal confessions from Guantanamo Bay prisoners?”

“Torch.  Thanks.  Sleep deprivation torture, complete with reduced cognitive performance and poor psychomotor functioning, exactly.  Just ask Mommy what’s for snack-time and girlfriend will tell you anything you wanna hear.  Jackhammer please.” 

“Why is she so tired?  Shall I check the tolerances?”

Please.  It’s the hourly breast-feeding sessions, dude.  But now that you have backed-off the boob at night she’s not cross-eyed in the morning.  Haven’t you noticed she isn’t wearing her pants inside-out as often anymore?  Pass the titanium.”

“Now that you mention it, I can’t remember the last time we wandered a parking lot aimlessly searching for the car.  So, do you think a rested Mommy, could be, like, witty?  Or efficient?  An interesting conversationalist?  I always took her as three potatoes short of a tortilla.     For example, this diaper bag is completely lacking in radioactive material.  Will a juice box do?”  

“Remind me to call the Russians this afternoon.  Anyway, a witty and intelligent Mommy may be a stretch, but she brushed her teeth today.  That has to be a good sign.  Careful you don’t snag a leg warmer on the hydraulics.  There!  All I need is a purple crayon and this puppy is as good as new.”

“Smooth legs, fresh breath.   Looking good, Mommy.  So, do you think there’s a chance of us getting another little brother out of this deal?”

“Don’t count on it, kid.”