Yesterday I cleaned Goodwill out of all of their books. Okay, they have a few left but I came home with 39 of them. I was a happy girl.
And then Aidan opened his big damn mouth.
Gosh, Mom, you have a lot of chapter books. You read too many books. You need to stop reading and get some exercise.
Excuse me? What did you just say? I ran five miles this morning before you were even awake plotting your reign of terror over my life so shut the hell up!
Yeah well, you're still a couch potato. A couch potato that reads too many chapter books.
And then he took a chapter book to the back of the head as he walked away. I mean, really? I don't recall a couch in the backyard where I sit for hours every day while you swing the bat like you're having a seizure all the while rambling on about how Asher's pitches are so wild. There's no couch at the park for our three hour outings. I'm not on a couch at your baseball games - no sir, those are metal bleachers capable of scorching the skin from my body as I sit out in the blazing sun, not a shade tree in sight. I certainly do not make your breakfast, lunch, dinner, and numerous snacks throughout the day from a couch. I don't lounge on a couch while I watch you ride your scooter out front - also in the blazing hot sun, I might add. You know, for a girl who despises the heat and loves nothing more than curling up on the couch with a chapter book, I spend a helluva lot of time out in the heat, off of the couch for your little punk ass. Jerk.