Maybe it’s the bowl of ice cream I just had. Really, don’t you just love a bowl of ice cream when it’s 62 degrees in your house and 34 degrees outside? Those ice cream parlors that close for the winter so the owner can run his snow plow business? Sissies.
There’s ice cream in my house. There is a lot of crap in my house that wasn’t here when I left for LA last Thursday. How about the three pictures received via I-Phone of The Boy eating chocolate cake ON THE COUCH. On the couch. Did I mention he was on the couch? I know that our couch is trashed since we had kids. Pee, poop, ground-in Cheerios, pee, vomit, milk, pee. But chocolate cake? Really? Seriously? Chocolate cake?
Three different pictures of The Chocolate Cake Consumption. Parts I, II and III. Over three days. Why don’t you just poke my eye with a fondue fork already?
How about the hot dogs in the fridge? Trader Joes nitrate free, but hot dogs nonetheless. I may have served Chipotle for dinner three nights in a row since I got home but by God, that’s real beef. Not beef parts.
“Fruit” snacks. The only fruit present being the SHAPE of the snack. Look! It LOOKS like an orange. “MOM, CAN I HAVE FRUIT????” Sure, you can have a banana. “NO, MOM!!! FRUIT SNACKS!!” You may as well just take one of those 3 foot Pixie Stix, boil it down and smoke it through a pipe.
Apple juice. See above.
Beef jerky. Which would be fine if they hadn’t bought dog beef jerky that looks just like the people beef jerky. I’m almost positive it is the same stuff but seriously? My apologies to The Baby who didn’t seem to notice a difference.
All The Boy’s shoes are missing but he does now know how to properly utilized a bottle opener.
Maybe I should go away more often.