Thursday, January 26, 2012

Be Heard

What I learned today was that I mean it when I don’t want something. Eating food means I need to wear a bib, and I don’t like that, not one little bit. I believe I’m making myself clear about this. Do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME?

I don’t see you wearing a bib, Hot Mama. Or you, Daddy. And trust me, you need it. How many stains do you have to get on your own shirt before a bib becomes mandatory? I saw you drip that soup. I did. You’re fooling nobody.

Gravity befriends none of us.

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