Monday is trash night. Z and I stood in the kitchen and stared at each other as the kids screamed and screamed and tried to kill one another in the living room. In the last few minutes C had bitten Z, T, and one of the cats.
“I’ll do the litter,” I said.
I trudged downstairs and started scooping a week’s worth of cat pee and shit. And I realized that I volunteered to do this job I despise because I wanted a break from my children.
Happy Monday, people. Happy Monday.
Blast off, motherfuckers.
This morning I explained for what felt like the millionth time that the light saber is taken away for the whole day if he hits his brother with it.
This older woman has completely bewitched my young man.