Here’s a drawing of me and the broom.
Spending a little one-on-one time.
Feeling all kinds of good about our tidy behavior.
If you can’t tell….
We’ve totally got them dust bunnies under control.
There’s that cute yellow school bus.
Looking all safe and efficient out there….dropping off the children.
How the time flies when I’m so busy whisking around doing responsible things.
And take a look at those kids of mine…..
they are flat out running for the house.
It’s so nice that they are always so eager to get home-sweet-home.
After 6 years of this…
Why so I STILL get caught off guard?
It’s like knowing good and well that you’ve got some rotten tomatoes lolly-gagging around in the refrigerator,
you open the door for the sixth time and be all,
“FER CRYIN’ OUT LOUD! WHY IS ROTTEN SEWAGE SMELL PUNCHING ME IN THE NOSE HOLES!?”
Count to ten, self.
I’ve totally got this.
I’m a big girl.
I drive a mini-van and stuff.
Maybe try counting to 20?
Do jumping jacks?
Holler as loud as you can:
Hide in the bathroom??
That was a bad choice.
Actually that wasn’t even supposed to be a choice.
Where did that come from?
I think you burst a blood vessel in your left eyeball there.
That was freaky.
And wow. Super immature.
I should take away your mini-van.
Give you a scooter.
With training wheels.
You got yourself some silence.
Oh. Wait… never mind.
It looks like someone wants to ask you something.
Since WHEN do you have to ask me for a drink of water?
Two things we’ve got lots of around here…
and that’s AIR and WATER.
Go right ahead and help yourself to either of those.
Here’s the thing….
nobody has to let me know when they have to go poo or pee.
The ONLY time you need to inform the household of your 1’s or 2’s,
is IF it becomes a three.
Because if you got number 3,
we’re ALL gonna get number 3.
This is kind of a trick question.
Because if I start explaining hormones…
Then I have to tell them who Aunt Flo is…
which then gives me a big rats-nest of explaining to do….
and that conversation sounds like a big hairy ball of fun.
NOT going there.
Can we start over?
Let’s zip-it-lock-it-put-it-in-the-pocket until I’ve inhaled a cheeseburger with an extra side of salt?
Git over here.
Group hug, group hug.
I love you little squealers….
even though I’ve got a terrible way of showing it.
I might need to start taking some lessons in Coping Skills 101.