(Not me, mind you. If I had a 2 yr old, I’d be dead by my own hand within the hour.)
Two-year-old (staring at my chubby gut): Mommy, who’s in your tummy?
Me: Well, the baby WAS in my tummy, but he’s out now.
TYO: But WHO is in your tummy?
Me: Nobody. There’s nobody in my tummy.
TYO: Mommy, WHO IS IN YOUR TUMMY???
Me: Ahem. Nobody. Really.
TYO: . . . .
TYO (to herself as she walks away): Maybe it’s just food . . . .
I have been a bad brigade leader. I have ignored my ladies (and gents). As much as I hate excuses, here is one: I’m in the middle of some heavy duty work-related stuff right now, making me worthless to everyone who isn’t paying me to do something.
I leave you with the following rant:
When I left work today and got to my car, I found that the person who had parked next to me hadn’t left enough room for me to both open my door and get in my car. I was left with one of two options: crawl in from the passenger side or suck it in and wedge myself in my car the way GMC intended, most likely leaving a nice big mark on the car parked next to me, and possibly setting off the car alarm.
I thought to myself, “I should ask the CGB what they would do in a situation like this.”
And just so you know, there was no car alarm.