My belly don’t jiggle jiggle, it folds.
Welcome to your forties.
You brag about how early you went to bed and you’re jealous if someone beats you.
Stop naming your dogs Bella.
We are full.
Anti-carb diets are just radical groups of potato-phobes and spud-judists.
6yo: I wish I was a bird so I could poop on people’s heads.
7yo: Why do you need to be a bird?
Fellas, stop putting rings in our food and let us eat our Crème Brûlée in peace.
him: I’ll cancel our dinner plans.
me: What? Why?? I still like food, it’s you I don’t like.
I’ve realized the source of all my stress and anxiety. It’s anything that comes after someone saying “Mom!”
I was dressed and ready to go for a run an hour and a bag of Doritos ago.
“Here mom, hold this.”
Translation: I own you now.