Hi, how was your weekend?
Mine went something like this:
It got to the point where I wanted to ask her what flew up her ass.
But that’s not proper parenting. I think most experts would frown over using the word “ass” in front of children.
I get the distinct impression that this is her way of giving me the finger.
She wouldn’t stop crying.
She took off her pants and whined some more.
I was about ready to run down the street flinging my arms in the air while screaming, “It’s too hard, IT’S TOO HARD!”
Then Tommy started to cop an attitude.
And I wanted to ask him what flew up HIS ass.
Then when I went to start dinner this happened:
That would be cornstarch.
ALL OVER THE PLACE!
It somehow tipped off the shelf and exploded all over the counter.
Can I have a weekend do-over?