jaclyncourtney
I'm racking my brain, trying to think if I've ever given him any indication that it's OK to poop in the backyard.
I'm racking my brain, trying to think if I've ever given him any indication that it's OK to poop in the backyard.
When I asked my son how hitting his brother in the eye could be "an accident," he replied, "I was trying to hit him in the nose."
My son announced cheerfully that his new sport activity never resulted in injuries - only deaths
I said "Hi, I'm your mum" which made him cry so hard, I immediately apologised.
I swung the axe convinced I could show my dad a thing or two about cutting wood, but the lesson I learned that day was taught by my toe.
I never had as long or decent a conversation with my mother as the one after I'd hit the deer and totaled the car.
Although I could have stopped him, I let him run into the tree.
After his soggy diaper leaked onto his bed, my two year old asked, "Who turned the water on?"
He was only one pound and six ounces, but somehow I knew my son would live.
My mother, being enraged, screamed "You son of a bitch", to which I replied, "Yes, I am."