Driving me crazy

Joe dropped off Jacob to me this evening at the day care because he took the day off. He handed me a shopping bag that had a couple of full bottles in it. As I was walking away with the bag and the baby, he told me, "I want those bottles back."

THE BOTTLES I BOUGHT??? Part of the vast collection of baby things that I and my family provided that remain in your home? The shit you wouldn't share for the benefit of your son when I left? None of which you or your family provided, unless we count that Christmas ornament your parents so generously presented to him upon his birth??

Because that's exactly what a baby needs when he's born. Something to hang on a dead tree.

Yeah, right, asshole. You'll see these bottles again when I see my green vase -- the one still sitting on your nightstand -- on my living room shelves. I'll also require my ironing board back. My Rubbermaid straws would be nice too. My Turkish spices and seedling collection can stay with you, and you can keep the brakes I put on your car and even the Best Buy gift card I bought for your brother that you refused to let me give to him because it was "too much." I will, however, require you to turn over the blanket my aunt knitted, the towels another aunt sewed, and all the other things on loan from my family that were NOT intended to benefit you. Yet you hold them hostage.

But now I have your bottles. My bottles. Jacob's bottles. Two stupid Gerber bottles worth a few bucks. One small step.

[Insert my best evil laugh here.]