Someone wisely once told me that I don’t always have to be funny.
I don’t listen to her, of course, because why would I take good advice? I am a person who growls “what type of idiot leaves their shopping cart so close to my car!” in the parking lot then realizes, I am the idiot who left my own shopping cart so close to my car. Hypothetically speaking, of course.
(Actually, no, that happened an hour ago at Whole Foods.)
Humor is my forte. My vice. My crutch.
But today, dear babies, I took you to the dentist by myself, you didn’t nap, I don’t have it in me to be funny.
The day started when you, Baby Girl, fed me a pancake while I was peeing. You opened the bathroom door and came right at me and shoved it to my face and with my hands, uh, preoccupied I had no place to put it, so I ate it, and I think that’s really really gross.