After I came upstairs and saw what you (and your older brother accomplice) had done to the playroom I’d just spent half the weekend cleaning up, I understandably needed to give myself a time-out.
What is not understandable is why you decided to open the door to the guest bathroom during said time-out. Also beyond the realm of this mother’s comprehension is why, during that trip into the guest bedroom, you decided to sample the contents of the soap dish.
So you’ll perhaps forgive my lack of sympathy when my time-out was disturbed by you rushing into my haven of solitude with your tongue sticking out, frantically trying to wipe the taste of Irish Spring off your buds. In my defense, I did assist you in discovering that one’s shirt makes a pretty decent make-shift towel in these types of emergencies. And it is certainly not my fault that hours later, your mouth continues to smell as fresh and clean as the Irish countryside.
You may not have my sympathy, but at least you gave your Daddy and me something to laugh about after we put you to bed.
P.S. As I type this, I remember that today is St. Patrick’s Day and it occurs to me that maybe there was a method to your madness. Maybe in your limitedly-verbal way you were just trying to say, “Kiss me, I’m Irish.”
1 comment:
He has a bit of leprechaun in him! Don't be surprised to find yourself playing the part of the screaming banshee! It's apparent you've also discovered the 'gold at the end of the rainbow' - your husband and you were able to laugh about it at the end of the day!! Keep those Irish eyes smiling!!
Post a Comment