Strike One: I falsely accuse my dds of being ungrateful wretches (it turned out to be His sock!).
Strike Two: I jinx dd #1 by telling her how lucky she is her enchanting son has never really been sick. An hour later, he wakes up from his nap and (literally) tosses his lunch.
Time Out! If I'd known the cosmic pranksters had me targeted, I would have predicted, in smug pontifical tones, that there's no way he could learn to [read, say his grandparents' names, change his own diaper] at this age.
Hope you feel better, wee one . . .
Things I think about - as jumbled and unrelated as the contents of my garden cart at the end of a nice long day outside: lots of weeds, an empty coffee cup, some prunings, an interesting looking plantlet and a few handy tools.
No comments:
Post a Comment