Posting this a little early because if the Kings don’t win the Cup tonight, there’s no way I’ll be sober enough to write a complete (or incomplete) sentence. BTW, is there such a thing as a service that comes into your home and removes all belts and sharp objects? Well there should be.
We started the day with an Oscar-worthy performance by Harmony, who insisted that she stay home from school to celebrate Sam’s birthday. I’d been toying with the idea of a special girls day anyway so I didn’t put up much of a fuss. Also, I’m spineless and I try not to scream too much before 8 am.
So we hung out around the house making homemade magic sand (another Pinterest fail). In related news, I am thinking of getting one arm amputated and replaced with a dust buster.
Then it was off to the mall where I fought the urge to commit a multiple murder just long enough to do some Father’s Day shopping. Daren, your gift kinda sucks but I am operating on the assumption you would prefer a shitty gift over an incarcerated spouse. Yes I realize there is a chance I’d come back a lesbian but who would look after the girls??
After the mall we took the wagon over to the LCBO where my filthy clothes and yesterday’s mascara completed the look of a substance abuser with a suspended license.
On the way, the girls found the world’s unluckiest caterpillar and brought him along for the ride. Honestly, this guy was in the middle of the road, poised for certain death and he’s probably STILL cursing his bad luck. “Buddy” is now imprisoned in a ziploc container in the kitchen and if he survives until bedtime I have promised to set him free. I do not speak caterpillar and I have never been a POW but somehow this fuzzy little guy and I have connected. We share a bond. We’ve seen things.
“Groceries” unloaded, we had dinner and fired up the wagon once again, headed for the ice cream shop down the street. The girls can’t believe I keep saying yes to wagon rides. I’m pretending it’s because I’m super nice and I love them to bits but it’s really because I have a master plan to develop buns of steel by the time D gets home.
True story about the wagon…. I originally said no when H asked for it but never one to give up after one, two, even seven “no’s”, she rightly pointed out that it had cup holders and we had ourselves a deal.
After ice cream it was, mercifully, time to start winding down for bed. But not before we cleaned up the brown sugar the dogs had pilfered from the pantry and demolished on the couch.
But first, we had to celebrate the birthday boy. Sam got his very own doggy cookie and one for each of his cousins. He loved all of his gifts and made a really moving speech about the power of family and clean genitals. It was beautiful. He didn’t even mind that the strippers were over 40.
GO KINGS GO!