(…Because I haven’t finished the books I’m reading, to write about <sheepish>)
#90
Bedtime in the Rockstar household…
Me: Bedtime, darling…
HN: Mummy. Do you really have to ruin my life like that?
Rockstar emerges blearily from bedroom one morning to find the floor covered in fish food pellets, crunching disturbingly under his crocs…..
Rockstar: What the hell?
HN: <calmly> Don’t say that, Ko-ko. “Hell” is a shitty word <laughs maniacally as I spit my coffee>
Lost kid wanders through mall, bawling for his mum…
HN: Mummy. He lost his parents. We should do something.
Me: <looking around for mall security> Y-
HN: Should we bring him to the orphanage?
Lands on her bottom after flailing about crazily, which she does on a regular basis…
HN: Oopsie! I seem to have landed on my booty!
Me: Is there any way she could be intoxicated? Do I not store alcohol and medications high enough out of reach?
Rockstar: What? She’s always intoxicated…
HN: <dances off maniacally> I-KNOW-WHERE-THE-LADDER-ISSS, Mum-may……….
A-and… there’s Rockstar’s contribution… Someday there’s a story about how these two do funfair games… When… y’know, I can finish my reading
