K1 brought me I Love You Forever by Robert Munsch for his bedtime story. I was crying by the time the kid turned nine.
It's been pretty smokey around here lately, what with forest fires etc. It finally started raining today, and I thought, yay, some of that smoke is going to go away. And it did. Until some rain must have quenched a few fires. Ever pour water on to a campfire? Yeah. Super smokey.
K1, K2 and Cousin were in the back yard swinging last night. K2's only 18 months, but heaven help Grandma if she didn't push him as high as the other two in a big boy swing!! He was flexing his hands pretty well when he got off, ha ha. No fear, these kids. Not necessarily a good thing.
Even for me, my mantra of "They'll only do it once" is getting a bit sketchy, especially when they're leaning out the window in their 6' high play house (K1 actually leaned out a bit too far last week; the stools at the bottom broke his fall nicely. Really glad that Grandma wasn't here for that one).
I can still see some of my desk, and I'm happy with that.
You ever have someone help you out with something, and they go overboard (maybe to prove how inferior you are about doing the same thing, subconsciously, but still) to the point that they wear themselves, and then they just get this pissy, bitchy martyr thing going?
I'm debating whether to watch something (entirely for me because everyone, and I do meant everyone, else is in bed) or to continue reading (I've discovered Catherine Bybee on Kindle--I honestly meant to check and see if she had books at the library but I kinda forgot (in the seven seconds it took to download the $2 ones--honestly, I forgot that I was going to log in and see if the library carried her! But, we all know that I have a slight problem...) while I eat some leftover Tiramisu cake. Either way, the cake's going down.
I hate Facebook. Mostly because of the folks who try to prove their point while at the same time proving that they didn't pay attention in school on the day that the teacher was talking about apostrophes. I can't fucking take you, or your cause, seriously if your grammar is worse than mine.
And, stop guilting me for not passing on your little cause-photo by shaming me into doing it. That shit just makes me want to say "Fuck off". If I want to share your photo enough to risk getting a virus, I'll fucking click Share. On my own. Thanks.
I get enough guilt trips at home. Yeesh.
Well, off to read. And eat cake.