05.11.03 BF's sister & her "cubs" came down this weekend (for some unknown reason) for a little visit. Her kids are aged 1.5 and 4 are the sole reason that I refuse to reproduce. You know, for fear that my children might be just half - JUST FUCKING HALF - as hyperactive as these two. Running up and down the house screaming and climbing. Wanting to play with everything in sight including the computer. I hate how parents tend to just totally ignore what thier children are doing. Here is a fucking BABY on the computer just pushing every button on the fucking keyboard & trying to teethe on the mouse. I cringed every time I heard the computer chair creak. Then they wanted to play with the camera, the remote control, my cell phone... And there is BF's sister sitting there in la-la land, totally oblivious to what is happening. And there I am silently freaking out as the 4 year old sat on the sofa with one of those semi-frozen chocolate icecream bars... turning to me and proclaiming that she had "pottied on her pants and sandals". --------------- They gave us a mini-break by going to walmart for diapers last night. BF and I were so into the toys that they brought with them that we barely noticed they were gone... except for the quiet. Alcohol & toy trucks do not mix. We sat about ten feet apart & were pushing this toy truck back and forth between us - it kept getting more and more violent as we saw who could push the truck the hardest. Well... BF won, because he slammed that motherfucker into my ankle. I screamed in surprise & immediatly grabbed the injured body part out of instinct. I found that my hand was now covered in blood. Yeah. So now I am limping around on a busted ankle & I cannot tell anyone how this happened. Except, of course, YOU my dear diary. |
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