It's been slim pickings in the entry department over here, folks. I've been far too busy trying to devise ways to keep the devil child from acting so terrible that he becomes a preschool dropout. Though I suppose you're not a dropout when you've been kicked out on your ass, now are you? I do not want to be the mother of the Bully, thank you very much. I won't say much more on the subject, because it has made me very, very tired, but suffice it to add that there is a "good boy behavior" sticker chart on my refrigerator right now with ten very hard-won Mr. Incredible "Good Job" and "Super" and "WOW!" stickers on it, resulting in a Backyardigans Mission to Mars DVD prize and the promise of a breakfast party in the living room this morning while we watch it. Yes, I am not at all above bribing my child to behave nicely. Those of you tsk-ing at me do not have to live with my child. Now let's move on.
I have a bit of relationship advice to offer to my male readers. If, by chance, your wife or girlfriend confides in you that the reason she's wearing pajama pants at 6:00 pm when you arrive home is that because earlier, while her bladder was dangerously full, she had a coughing fit so bad that she might have peed in her pants a little bit, do not--do NOT-- then proceed to conversationally tell your mother on the phone later that night, "Hey, Jennifer wet her pants today!" Your mother will be horrified, and your wife/girlfriend will most likely go to bed without you.
And now I'm off to make scrambled eggs with cheese, the breakfast of those-who-have-earned-ten-good-boy-stickers!
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