“Failure to send me to Girl Scouts” to the list.
You don’t even want to know how long it took me to start the fire in the wood stove today. I had to start that fire because winter has arrived here. Fall? Who needs fall when you can wake up to 30 degree weather? And since The Husband is running interference with The Baby who wakes up at 6:23 a.m. every morning like clockwork, he apparently has no time to build a proper fire before he leaves for work. I was still recovering from getting up 9 times to put The Boy back in his bed in the middle of the night.
I called Sweet Home Alabama to complain about my lack of Scout skills. She mentioned that she had been in the Girl Scouts. Apparently I have been led astray about ways my parents have overtly failed me in life. SHA doesn’t know how to start a fire. She doesn’t even know her knots. WTH?? What are they doing in Girl Scouts if they aren’t teaching them survival skills and how to light crap on fire? Either way, I will now blame my parents for failing to sign me up for the Boy Scouts. HOW DARE THEY???? Clearly they did not love me because if they had, they would have taken the Boy Scouts to the Supreme Court to get me admitted.
Or they could have just taught me to start a fire. My mother? Queen Firestarter. I still remember my mother out in the snow, chopping firewood when she was 7 months pregnant. Of course, I’m 5 months pregnant and I have contractions if I climb stairs too quickly. I am clearly not my mother’s daughter. That being said, would I be in a rush to teach MY offspring to start a fire? Probably not. Who am I kidding? Not just “no” but “hell, no.”
So I guess I will let her off the hook. The odds are pretty good that she probably DID try to teach me to build a fire but I was ignoring her as any good daughter does. Sorry, Mom.
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