This WAS going to be a quick and clever post about how to stop your child from treating you like a piece of playground equipment.
Instead, I got this. ————-> mommy moooo mommyy
Within seconds of opening the laptop, the Notorious Keyboard H-O-G had scrambled up onto my lap with lightning speed.
grammy gggg gramme
poppy poop (Heh heh)
bobo bb bobo (Damn, I was SO hoping she’d type boob. Yes, I am an 11-year-old boy.)
Clearly, today I am a jungle gym. And apparently, whatever I’m doing is RREEAALLY exciting.
Oh, and my great idea to keep the kids off your back?
Tell them you have poop on you.
I’m just sayin’ … it stopped MP in her tracks today. Sent her running for the hills, even.
Long enough for me to finish cleaning the toilet at least …
well at least i know im not the only one who feels like tenderized meat at the end of the day. i dont even know why i let my daughter jump all over me. i think any dignity i had went out the window when 7 people watched me give birth.