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Je veux être la fille avec la plupart de gâteau. Regardez-moi dans la glace.
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07 June 2005



“Miles and Jack! Come put on shoes! It’s Monday morning, and we are going to be late for school!”

I hear shrieks of terror coming from the kitchen, where Jack has been eating a snack of dry cheerios. Miles has been teasing him.

“You’re not three yet! You’re not three yet!”

“I AM free. I’m in Twacy’s woom! Dat means I’m free!”

WHAP! Miles whacks Jack with a toy sword.

Crying ensues.

“Miles! Come out here now. Jack, finish your cheerios and let’s go!”

“Ah ayum! Ahm cuuhhmin’.” This little one has the strangest Southern accent I’ve ever heard. And a tendency to speak with his mouth full, making the accent all the more strange.

They both tear out of the kitchen, Miles chasing after Jack, who is hollering in fear, and running toward me.

His breath catches in his throat.

He is retching, trying to cough, and not breathing. His mouth is full of cheerios.

His eyes are wide and terrified.

I bend down, listening for sounds of breathing in his throat…nothing. I pick him up, holding his head down toward the floor at an angle. With my right hand I deliver several blows to his back.

He coughs.

Wet cheerios on my feet.

Five minutes later

He continues to breathe.

He just told me to “shut up.”


Blogger Shelby said...

No appreciation whatsoever! Sheesh... I can't say anything though, my sisters and I were hellraisers when we were young too.

Come to think about it, we still are. Ha!

Anonymous sarah said...

This made me smile so much! I love how you mix in stories of your kids with stories about sex. It becomes more than just a sex blog. I'm a tad conservative when it comes to sex but I love reading your blog. newbie...going through the archives obviously...


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