Ever tried cleaning your house only to turn around and have each room destroyed one by one as you do it?
Ever rue the day Santa brought the cool kitchen when you find root beer all cooked up inside (and outside) of it?
Ever try to potty train a three year old?
You get my drift.
So late in the afternoon as we were leaving karate class, the karate class I was asked to leave because my previously angelic now devil-child screamed holy hell for thirty straight minutes, I strapped my children in with a smile then proceeded to freak out as I drove away because we all know yelling really, really works.
It started something like: "What in the world were you thinking?" you know, because he's three and can reason with me like that, when Jacob started singing in the back seat.
" Come on, Eileen.
At this moment.
You mean everything."
He figured his Mama out.
If you want Mama to feel better, pop in the 80s tunes.
If you can't find or reach them, just sing them.
By the time he got to "Toora, Toora, Toora, Too Ra-Aye, Eileen I'll hum this tune forever" I'd
Now, if I could just teach him the words to some Cure tunes.