Category — Ridiculous

Scene: A recent night, sexy times.

Mark: Talk dirty to me.

Sarah: Toiletbowl.

Mark: …

Mark: Your imagination is broken.

“So what you’re saying is, I can eat it, but it’s going to come out my butt? FORREAL? No. I don’t believe you.”

Last week (or was it the week before?) (all my days run together now) (WAHM says what?) I watched Beth’s kids while she got her hair did. They were dropped off on my doorstep bearing coffee and a chocolate chip muffin. I probably would have let them in even if they didn’t have Dunkin’ Donuts, but it’s a good thing they were carrying.

Anna and Noah are so great and cute and smart and hilarious that I want to punch them every time I see them, but I don’t. Although I do pinch Noah’s butt, but only with his permission. Usually. And sometimes when Anna asks me to play with her hair, I don’t even pull it.

While sitting on her babies, I composed the following email to Beth:

Things your children have told me, unsolicited:

“When is Asher waking up?”

“Mom loves Diddy Kong, she plays all the time. Even when she’s working.”

“When is my mom coming back?”

“My dad knows everything.”

“Sarah? Sarah. You should buy more Wii controllers.”

“And toys for big kids.”

“We love helping our mom.”

“When is Asher waking up?”

“We used to have 4 pairs of 3D glasses, but now we only have one, and it’s on mom’s bedroom floor.”

“When is my mom coming back?”

“Oh. Then I should have brought Go Fish.” (Because there aren’t enough matches to play with Pokemon Cards. You know how many time I had to tell him I don’t have any matches, and neither does he? He’d say, “Ok. Do you have a Piplup? YOUR TURN!”) Punch.

“When is Asher waking up?”

“When is my mom coming back?”

“Why is this chair broken? Are you going to fix it? WHEN?”

“Are you emailing my mom? Ok. I’ll eat my banana now.”

“My mom must be driving RIGHT NOW. Seriously.”

“She is.”