Several nights ago it was half past a glass of Cupcake and I had fed, bathed, and clothed my children. That's me -- I am Maslow. I meet their hierarchy of needs: food, shelter, clothing. I am mom of the year. No denying it. Please go ahead and monogram my award. Yes, in the South we do not engrave....we monogram. Amen. Anyhoo, I had my glass of Cupcake and the spawn were clean as a whistle and ready for bed. And I did my normal sweet heavenly night time routine. I stood at the stairs and ever so delicately yelled from the bottom step:
"Spawn of mine? Birthed from my womb? Come hither."And of course, they didn't. So I had to tramps up the stairs to find them eating soap and coloring on my bathroom walls. I completely normal event in all American homes. But when we did the count off of spawn - we were one short. ONE SHORT. One man was left behind - well NOT ON MY WATCH! NOT ON MY WATCH! (and it is a lovely Skagen silver mesh watch - darling if I do say so myself).
So we began our search:
Under the bed? Nope.
Behind the toilet? Nada.
In the flower beds? Empty.
Out in the street riding his bike in his skivvies? BINGO!

Yes, that is how we roll.

I know there are many angles we can take her -- but may I please point out...

That he was bathed, fed, and clothed.....

I think that is all now.
Thank you.
No comments:
Post a Comment