Five Months of Self-Inflicted Pain

Sometimes I know what I'm doing. Sometimes I'm an idiot. Alas.

I hit idiot levels on Saturday. As Mila was dancing her little heart out at her weekly dance class (NOT with Daycare Lady, of course), the schedule for summer camps was released. I quickly took a glance because Mila really super enjoyed the My Little Pony dance camp she attended last summer. It's pretty much the thing that made her want to take a class year round.

THERE WAS A MUPPET BABIES CAMP.

This is exciting for two reasons:

1. Mila loves Muppet Babies. She has been watching it On Demand basically every day for months, which is nuts since there are only something like 13 episodes available.

2. I ... don't hate it. The reboot stayed fairly true to the original run of the series and basically isn't annoying. Go back to #1. I think I've seen every episode at least 235987235982 times. For me to say it's not annoying is REALLY saying something.

Thus, when Mila got out of class, I casually mentioned that there was a Muppet Babies dance camp this summer. Like, SUPER casually. I didn't get out the confetti or anything. I just mentioned it in passing as I meandered my way to a totally different and very exciting topic.

Right about now, half of you are nodding knowingly because you know EXACTLY what happened. I screwed up and then some. Go ahead and laugh.

For the half of you that didn't instantly catch on to what happened next, HAHAHAHAHAHA. I got destroyed is what happened. Mila heard, "Muppet Babies dance camp" and took it to mean it was happening right that second and is it time yet? How about now? Now? Can it be time now? HOW ABOUT NOW?

Two days later, Mila has destroyed my will to live. I have signed her up for a dance camp that won't be happening until THE END OF FREAKIN JULY, but the fact that I've signed her up does nothing to relieve me of the constant pestering. I've very likely to not survive the next ... AW, HELL. IT'S FIVE MONTHS AWAY. HOW MANY TIMES WILL SHE ASK IN THE NEXT FIVE MONTHS? I ... can't count that high.

Go ahead and mark "Death by a million Muppet Babies questions" as my cause of death in my obituary. It's coming. Possibly soon.