Imagine being the first Robert called Bobby, they were probably like, ‘wtf did you just call me?’
When I think about ‘running a tight ship’ I’m reminded that I’m more of a ‘walking a loose boat’ kinda girl.
When a fancy lady told me she was from an upscale neighborhood, I stared at her, mouth agape and said, ‘Oh shit! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?’ She didn’t like that at all.
“Mommy! We made pancakes!” and other terrifying things unsupervised children say.
How come we never describe an arsonist as someone who lit up a room?
At least I can garauntee that if I’m murdered nobody is going to pull that whole, ‘She lit up a room’ crap.
You’re supposed to be Norwegian! I angrily whisper at my freezing hands that won’t stop shaking so I can drink my coffee.
My warrior status is dramatically reduced every time I check my phone to see what I ordered instead of opening the box.
Tiny Son: Mommy, I can’t wait to be a ghost so I can see what’s inside of trees.
As a kid I was forced to deal with the feelings when my dad went to the store for cigarettes and came back every time.