Tattletale
As both of my readers know, I hate going to the grocery store. I would rather contract a violent stomach flu (and have my period and a head cold at the same time) than to venture into my local supermarket. I never really enjoyed it before A came along, and thanks to her, I have grown truly to abhor it.
We were at the grocery store on Friday evening, me grimly pushing the cart up and down the aisles and she smugly sipping the Icee with which I had bribed her. I tossed a box of cereal (Cocoa Puffs, if you really must know) into the cart. She was sitting in the front of the cart and grabbed the box. She proceeded to open the flaps so that she could eat the cereal. Not surprisingly, I put the kibosh on that little project and shoved the cereal to the back of the cart, where she couldn't reach it. The kid got mad. Really mad. "I'M GONNA TELL YOUR FATHER!" she yelled at me.
"Really, you're gonna tell Granddaddy how mean I am?" She nodded, brow furrowed and lower lip jutting outward.
I actually have two dads, so initially I wasn't sure which one she meant. I'm not sure that she understands that her grandfather is my father. I know she doesn't believe that her Meemaw is my mother. She gets pretty mad when I try to tell her that the woman did, in fact, raise me. A must think I was raised by wolves or something (and I guess they were rude wolves, too, judging from how horribly I treat her).
Some other searches that led people to my blog:
But at least most of those search terms are pretty innocent - I didn't include the vulgar ones. Months ago I wrote this blog entry, not ever dreaming that a bunch of pedophiles would actually search for terms that would bring them to that entry. Ugh. Bad people . . . I may have to tell my father on them. Or their fathers. Or something.
We were at the grocery store on Friday evening, me grimly pushing the cart up and down the aisles and she smugly sipping the Icee with which I had bribed her. I tossed a box of cereal (Cocoa Puffs, if you really must know) into the cart. She was sitting in the front of the cart and grabbed the box. She proceeded to open the flaps so that she could eat the cereal. Not surprisingly, I put the kibosh on that little project and shoved the cereal to the back of the cart, where she couldn't reach it. The kid got mad. Really mad. "I'M GONNA TELL YOUR FATHER!" she yelled at me.
"Really, you're gonna tell Granddaddy how mean I am?" She nodded, brow furrowed and lower lip jutting outward.
I actually have two dads, so initially I wasn't sure which one she meant. I'm not sure that she understands that her grandfather is my father. I know she doesn't believe that her Meemaw is my mother. She gets pretty mad when I try to tell her that the woman did, in fact, raise me. A must think I was raised by wolves or something (and I guess they were rude wolves, too, judging from how horribly I treat her).
A and her Granddaddy (he said he is standing by for her call,
so that she call tell him what a horrible mother I am)
Some other searches that led people to my blog:
- "inky dink my mom's a rock star"
- 30 facts about jazz,tap, and ballet
- butty butt
- horse peeing
- i love you, in spanish
- oklahoma mystery diagnosis burning in head
- scooby doo orange push up
- swimming lessons alabaster alabama
- when did i get old?
- rock star same birthdays
But at least most of those search terms are pretty innocent - I didn't include the vulgar ones. Months ago I wrote this blog entry, not ever dreaming that a bunch of pedophiles would actually search for terms that would bring them to that entry. Ugh. Bad people . . . I may have to tell my father on them. Or their fathers. Or something.
Comments
I'm not gonna lie, I would have busted out laughing if I would have heard a little one say that to their mom. lmao
Stevie usually acts the worst in line, when there are 3 million people behind me. Sometimes I bribe him with a candy bar and someone in line decides to make a snarky comment and Hello Chaos!