By Heather O.
I’d especially like to buy my son a nap when he bursts into tears when I ask him why he’s pouting, and, “We NEVER get to play Harry Potter Clue!” is his soggy answer. Seriously, kid, go take a nap. Life is too short to be crying over Draco Malfoy with the Port Key in the Owlery.
If I could also give the world a treat, it would be a chocolate orange eaten between alternate bites of butter popcorn, polished off with a tall glass of skim milk. Certainly we must have taste buds in the hereafter, because heaven? Yeah, it tastes like that.
Speaking of heaven, do dogs who eat 3 chocolate oranges in one sitting go there? Or do they just get banished forever to the garages of hell while they flatulate for eternity?
On a side note, I’ve discovered that a black lab is capable of opening a chocolate orange box, splitting open the plastic cover, and peeling off the foil before devouring 2 previously sealed chocolate oranges. (One, I do have to admit, was open and halfway eaten, but was left in a place where I was SURE she couldn’t get it.) Seriously, WHO KNEW? I would have been impressed if I wasn’t so overwhelmed with the wave of methane emanating from her backside.
(Wow, we went from napping to flatulence in an alarmingly short time. Sorry. I think having a son makes me more susceptible to potty humor. And I find I’m passing this one to my daughter, who now knows that when she toots, she can say, “Heh, I toot from my bum!” and get a laugh from everybody. My mother would be appalled.)
Church starts at 9am tomorrow. My children, who are normally up annoying early and impossibly cheerful at such evil hours, have, for the past 2 weeks, been so tired from the constant travel/merriment/parental torture of dragging them places where the adults have more fun than the children that they have been sleeping until WELL after 9. I used to think that children who slept in were a myth, like the minotaur or friendly cats. But here I have two bonafide late sleepers on my hands, and well, if heaven is full of chocolate oranges and popcorn, you KNOW we are eating that at noon. And now I have to break that spell by stuffing them into church clothes and brushing their hair and making sure there are no jelly stains on their face BEFORE 10am? Crap.
So it is with a heavy heart that I prepare for my lesson for tomorrow, as I know tomorrow is going to be ugly. Way ugly. Like, Sam ugly:
I might try to look better than this, but I’m not promising anything.
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