Some dickweek cut me off while I was pulling into Wegmans this morning. I showed what I thought was supreme restraint in front of the boys by wildly gesturing without using my middle finger and yelling, “YOU ARE AN….IDIOT!”
T, “What does idiot mean?”
Me, “Um. Well, it’s a bad word that grown ups sometimes use. I shouldn’t have said it and I don’t want you to say it.”
T, “Ok. But what does it mean?”
Me, “It means not smart.”
T, “Why did you say it? I think that was a nice guy!”
Wow. Way to have my back little man.
Me, “He was most certainly not a nice guy! I was driving responsibly with my two boys in the car and he did something extremely dangerous. Listen dude, I care about you and your brother so much that I will get very angry anytime anyone does something that could hurt you.”
T, “Oh…..Then he was an idiot.”
Me, “Yes he was. But seriously, if you use that word again I’m not getting you a cupcake.”
The boys got me up at 6am on the dot. We have been to the bank, the farmer’s market, the grocery store, and the local pizza place. I have not bathed. I am sick with a gross cold. Z won’t get home till tomorrow night. Please wish me and my tenuous grasp on sanity good luck for the rest of the weekend.
I tend to get flustered, oh…basically all the time, but specifically when I put both boys to bed. Last night I was rushing around and burst into C’s room to read to him. Seems he calmly got started without me.
The two on the left are autobots and the two on the right are decepticons. The outside ones are in robot mode and the inside ones are in vehicle mode. All made by him.