It’s Not Paranoia If, Etc.

Toddler plays with cluster of ribbons. At some point in the playing, cat eats some ribbon. While toddler naps, cat suddenly starts heaving green, ribbony puke on the floor while I watch in horror, remembering something about cats and ribbon and death (and thinking about the $23 I just spent on cat food this morning). Mop up green, ribbony puke hastily with cloth diaper and immediately hear the splish splash of the baby taking a bath in the cat’s water dish. While I am mopping up water with several more cloth diapers, baby drags his soggy bottom under the table to gnaw on my computer’s power adapter.

I am smarter than one but cannot compete with all three working together. They know that to take me down, one has to wear me down with sleep deprivation, one has to wear me down with exquisite sentence structure and non-stop demand for chocolate and one, the dumbest one, just has to puke strategically. Each has a role perfectly suited to him. Just like in Oceans 11.

In other news, the Most Depressing Mall in the Universe has a website! (those people pictured in the masthead? They do not go to that mall. But hey, meet you at the Completely Above Average Sidewalk Sale, ‘kay?) And today, when we went to said mall, by CAR because I still cannot take the buggy out on our dad-blamed, frickin-frackin, juniper-berrying sidewalks in this town but if I stay in the house one more minute I am going to eat someone’s brain, I figured out how to make the ice cream truck ride go without putting money in. I rule. I rule HARD.

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