Wednesday, March 11, 2009

I should probably get the potato chips out of my hair now.

"Put the mask over your own face before your child's," I kept hearing as I fed the cats first while my own blood sugar tanked, my breathing shallow. If I pass out from the lack of oxygen, can they reach the masks? They are (a) jumpers and (2) entranced by dangly things. So really, wouldn't they have a better chance than some wobbly headed hominid who's crying because his mommy went all floppy?

If I pass out on the floor, I guarantee that will be the straw that finally makes them sprout thumbs.


It won't be like that X-Files. They don't know how to bite like that. You should see them trying to eat turkey.

This is not them trying to eat turkey



2 comments:

Elly said...

Train them to bring you pastries whenever you are prone! but watch the naps, or you could wake up smothered in scones.

Moonkee said...

You can't possibly mean that as a bad thing.