PUDDLES

Girl Roommate? She has magical boobies. Give her a fussy baby and ten minutes, the kid is out like a light. My theory is she sufficates them between her watermelons (not REALLY that much of an exaggeration). Her theory is that they're soft.

I know. Not much of a theory. My borderline child abuse theory? Much more likely.

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Girl Roommate and I spent much of last evening playing with some of the neighbor kids. My contribution to the playing included threatening to dunk one of them in the pool by his ankles if he aimed the hose at me, getting told NO, I DON'T WANT YOU TO HELP ME DOWN THE SLIDE, YOU HEINOUS BITCH! (she's 2, so I gleamed that last part from the expression on her face), and getting smacking ON BOTH CHEEKS for telling said 2 year old that her friends? They went home. Because they did. They really went home. But I wasn't supposed to tell her that I guess.

But it's okay because she provides material.

Like peeing.

"Daddy, I have to pee."

Yes, child, we can see that. You're still doing it.

"I told you to go behind the bush."

And she does. Well, kinda. She wondered over next to the bush and then squatted down in an attempt to check herself to make sure she was done and grabbed at her crotch in a way that would make most baseball players proud.

I then suggested the hose wielder aim it on over to that funny colored puddle.