Ice needed

I know, I know. Supposed to be using this as therapy, but I refuse to be bullied into it. I'll therapy when *I* feel like it.

In the meantime, someone asked if the brat had been good this whole past month. That was VERY dangerous and shouldn't be attempted again. I had to get stitches in my side from laughing too hard and it took hours to get up off the floor. That brat, being good? For a WHOLE MONTH??? omg.....you've got me laughing again.

They went on vacation for a week. Don't know where, I wasn't invited. No, I got stuck trying to entertain this young lady that kept dropping by. Do you have any idea how hard it is to look like you're interested in inane baby chattering? And WHY you guys think chasing a string is entertaining I'll never understand, but I tried that a few times just to shut her up.

So....Josh thought it was a good idea to make iced tea. So far so good. He puts water in the teapot, the teapot on the stove. Turns the burner on high. Anyone want to take a guess on what happened? Car horn honks, he heads outside to talk to a friend. Meanwhile, the pot starts to boil. As it usually happens, he puts in too much water so the whistler puked water all over the stove, down the front of it, onto the floor. Did he hear the awful racket? Of COURSE not, he was busy outside. I was just about to lose my mind with that high pitched squeal when Cameron came inside. Thankfully he killed the whistler, then killed Josh a few minutes later. I'm not sure who squealed more, the pot or Josh. The only thing he needed ice for after that was his backside.


Ice the brat, pet the cat. My ears hurt.