Posts Tagged ‘spice jars’

If it’s all right, I’d like to shout from my sweatpants here that my son, the guy in the yellow shirt beside his sister, did not get out of his bed last night and thereby did not make me get out of my bed either.  That is until his tummy kicked him at seven thirty and told him it was ready to growl.  By which time he had to tell me.

Which bears another announcement.  I am a much friendlier person today. Heh heh…Try me.

That I did not inhale and forget to exhale while my children built a pyramid with my spice jars was also better for my health.  Gah….spice jars…who cares?

But forget the spices.  Forget the jars.

Friend, just don’t forget your underwear.

‘Cuz per the house rule–established out of necessity in 2010, no one paints in the buff.  Not him.

And not her. 

Though she tends to care a bit more about where her paintbrush lands.

Which is why her paintings actually look like what she says they are.

Sunset, anyone?


Only the guy who thought he’d fiddle with the wet sunset after he was told, “Don’t touch the wet sunset”, ended up on the stairs still in his underwear to contemplate his impulsivity of touching, sigh…the wet sunset.

But clearly the only contemplating going on was, “I wonder how I’d look with my sister’s yellow sundress on backwards, and my mom’s white tennis shoes.”

By which time I contemplated whether there was ever such thing as…

enough sleep.


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