I knew it: Those kids have been hiding those pesky unicorns around this house. Even after I said NO MORE UNICORNS IN THIS HOUSE. I know it because I found two of them in cahoots at the bottom of the laundry basket. I know who put them there. She thinks 'Ha! That's a place she never goes!' Well kid, you didn't think it through. I am your mother. That puts me one step ahead. ALWAYS.
I found it: Under your bed? A carefully moulded selection of dust balls, sticky taped together with a label that reads 'New Zealand'. ...Three headless Barbies tied together round a teapot. ...And the last will and testament of a unicorn. Yup. The unicorn leaves all his worldly goods to a bat. Cheapskate. He could've left me the magic hoof.
And then I went out and said it: 'Look sonny, you're working the tea cup carousel for toddlers. And that's not appropriate. For crying out loud, look what you're doing. You're collecting money from the mothers of babies and toddlers. What? My problem? You're the one wearing the t-shirt that says, 'ReadthiswhileIcheckoutyourtits'.
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4 comments:
My brain is doing cartwheels. Then I realise that I always read 'carousel' as car-OUS-el.
(It's a genetic disease.)
So teapots and toddlers and carOUSel - ing - well....... This is the usual state of my brain tho'. It's alright for you - I have to live with me.
Blimey! There are days when I think I'm slowly going insane here with the kids and then I read someone else's blog post. And then I feel reassured that someone else is further down that route than me. Keep blogging.
What does her creator call the beloved Arseface? I only ask because I suspect that it's only mummy Grit calls her that.
vanessa? is that it? it's something like vanessa. she has just undergone further brain surgery and had a new dress.
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