My husband wants to know why our microwave is suddenly filthy like the break room microwave back at his office. I only see one common denominator here.
Why is it called a knuckle sandwich, and not fist food?
This afternoon a crew of men were installing Christmas lights on a house down the street. The next thing I hear is a boy yelling, “It’s not Decemberrrrrr!!”
That’s how I knew my son was home from school.
Online recipes have finally added a jump to the recipe button. Now if blogs could add a jump to the point button, life would be golden.
I love how my husband cuts all the bearded dragon’s food up into itty bitty pieces, like that’s how he finds it in the wild.
*Toddler grabs my shirt and pulls.
Me: Use your words, and tell me what you want, son.
*Husband grabs my shirt and pulls.
Me: Use your words, and tell me what you want, hon.
Son: I’m tired.
Dad: Hi Tired, I’m Dad.S:
D:S: You annoy me.
D: You annoy me.S: Oh, you’re copying me now?
D: Oh, you’re copying me now?S: Who is the parent here?
D: Who is the parent here?S: MOM! Come get your husband.
Pro tip: don’t bother feeding your kids before heading to the grandparent’s house. Either way they will be starving as soon as they walk in.
I hate when someone you love says mean things like, “It’s time to wake up.”
Nothing ends a debate like an Asian mom carrying a wooden spoon.