Jagged Little Pills, Al Bundy and Microfiber

“When the world slips you a Jeffrey, stroke the furry wall.” – Infant Sorrow

GHTTG_Soundtrack

I’ve had a couple of Jeffries shoved down my throat over the past few days.  Nearly impossible to swallow.  They’d been kind of lodged in my throat, not cutting off my breathing but jagged enough to remind me they were still ever-present.  Until I decided to take matters in my own hands.

Last night, I decided I’d had enough so I coughed them up and spit them out.  Then, I grabbed my laptop.  That’s the metaphorical “furry wall” for me.  The cobwebs of self-pity cleared and keyboard therapy commenced.

Pity parties suck and they’re never any fun, no matter how many martinis you consume.  Just FYI…

After all, there are so many other things that can turn that frown upside down!  And in my house, you never have too far to look…and how apropos that we’re on the topic of stroking.

I walked into the playroom to check on George, since he was being strangely quiet for long enough that alarm bells started going off in my head.  And there he was, sprawled on the couch and pulling an Al Bundy.

Crikey, am I dating myself with that reference???

I tried to keep a straight face but jeez…the image was just too much for me to handle.  The diaper didn’t stop him either.  No regard for the fact that he’s not potty-trained…he was having a grand old time on the MICROFIBER couch.  No wonder why he was being so quiet.  I should have known something was up.

 

“Kent Says There Are Fifty Ways To Win In Denver”

Silly me.

Did I REALLY think that once George turned three he was going to magically be potty-bound for life?

Um, yes, of course I did.

I will pause here for a moment so you can enjoy a few snickers at my expense.

It was a nice thought.  So far, we’re three for three.  I constructed George his very own bathroom out of an Amazon box to get him to sit still.  Yep, right in the middle of the kitchen.  He requested that we furnish his little space with Winnie the Pooh, an iPad, some Marvel figures and a remote control.  I was certain he’d never come out of that box…EVER.

Photo Credit - S.K. Mayhew, Kid Lit Writer skmayhew.blogspot.com

Photo Credit – S.K. Mayhew, Kid Lit Writer
skmayhew.blogspot.com

I was proven wrong, yet again.  The allure of our brightly colored sled coupled with mounds and mounds of snow drew him from his cardboard commode.  Hot on the heels of his brother and sister, George couldn’t get suited up fast enough.  And for a blissful hour, they climbed up and sailed down the slopes alongside our house.

I spent that hour watching reruns of Veep and drinking mango martinis.

“Kent says there are fifty ways to win in Denver.”

Photo Credit - http://www.yelp.com

Photo Credit – http://www.yelp.com

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