Dear Golden Boy,
Well, thanks to your antics Friday night, I’m gonna have to email at least 1476 people and let them know that I was MISTAKEN when I might have said a gazillion times that boys are easier than girls.
Yeah. When you FIRST gave me the silent treatment (a little slice of heaven, I must say) and then started whining like one of your sisters, and climaxed the whole angry event with a ranting and raving befitting an experienced teenage girl, I almost laughed out LOUD. If I hadn’t been so shocked and exhausted I might have just done that.
Let’s make a few things clear right now.
ONE: Promises are meant to be broken, and most likely WILL BE. Get used to it.
TWO: When you convince me to somehow nod in your direction when I am having a heated “discussion” with your older sister about her TATTOO, that does NOT A PROMISE MAKE. A nod is NOT a promise. Unless I actually utter the words I PROMISE, it is not one.
THREE: You do NOT need another official NBA basketball. There are SIX (six, people) laying around that mud pit you call a basketball court. Now, they may not ALL belong to us, but they all seem to bounce well enough to keep the neighbors, your father, your mother and your dogs constantly annoyed.
Oh, and FOUR: When your father walks in on our “discussion”, don’t pull the “I don’t know WHAT she’s talking about” card. He’s been down this road with me before- and the third time’s the charm. (And that “worst parents in the whole wide world comment? It had us laughing for hours. OMG I am still chuckling about THAT one.)
Sweet Jesus it was almost enough to get me drinking again.