A few days ago, I gave the toddler boy Golden Oreos for a snack. (Well, he got the pack out of the pantry, and looked up at me with huge, adorable eyes, while waving the cookies, until I opened them.) A little later, I cruise on by the table to check on him. He'd popped open all the cookies and licked the cream out.
That's my boy.
We are T-minus-holy-fuck-it's-a-matter-of-hours until moving time. In good news, my mom is in possession of my (hopefully fixed) netbook and will be over-nighting it to me. So I can stress less about our finances, since I run everything off Microsoft Money on that computer, and will be able to get back to normal soon. Yay!
Then it's just a matter of surviving four days in a truck with three kids under 8, a dog, and the husband.
Pray for me.
Or wait for me along I-20 with chocolate and wine.
That's my boy.
We are T-minus-holy-fuck-it's-a-matter-of-hours until moving time. In good news, my mom is in possession of my (hopefully fixed) netbook and will be over-nighting it to me. So I can stress less about our finances, since I run everything off Microsoft Money on that computer, and will be able to get back to normal soon. Yay!
Then it's just a matter of surviving four days in a truck with three kids under 8, a dog, and the husband.
Pray for me.
Or wait for me along I-20 with chocolate and wine.
2 Comments:
Oh, sweetie. I feel for you.
For karmic balance, I will start asking "Are we there yet?" every time I get in a car.
Perhaps if I'm doing it, your kids won't!
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