I’m 10 Now, Which Means I’m the Biggest Little Bitch on This Playground
Looking around, all I see are duds. In the sandbox, I see toddlers who don’t even know how to use their own feet.
Looking around, all I see are duds. In the sandbox, I see toddlers who don’t even know how to use their own feet.
You’re invited to a three-year-old’s birthday party where parents are—for some inexplicable reason—expected to join their children on the trampoline.
You’re very welcome to watch a movie, but little Olivia has chewed the arrow buttons off the remote so it will have to be the Paw Patrol movie.
Tells you in no uncertain terms that they are "NOT sleepy." Orders you to play the same song. Again.
Smiling or otherwise expressive mouse head-shaped pancakes are trademarked.
Since I’m no longer fixated on my news feed when we go out, I’ve started taking our six rescue dogs with me to the local coffee shop.
Thanks to you and the Magical Musical Mat™, every minute of my life is now a beeping, squawking, nonstop honking nightmare.
Attempt to wash as baby breakfasts upon me and Mr. Franklin inquires as to where I’ve hidden his double spectacles; point to spectacles on Mr. Franklin’s face.
I nodded off for like two seconds and woke up to fresh ink stains on my fingers, and a notary public closing his briefcase and heading out the door.
28.5%: Waitstaff pleased the King by referring to him only as "my lord" or "my goodly liege."
It is beyond comprehension to many of us at Spaz headquarters that our new eighty-foot-tall action figure could be the cause of such an accident.
Between work and the kids, I’m as busy as George Santos if he had actually done all that stuff he said he’d done.