Dear Diary …
Summer time is here … Which you can probably tell by the fact that IT’S HOT! And not “Anna Kendrick Hot” … More like “Live inside a gigantic lasagna, sweaty buttcrack sorta hot.” Oh I hate the hot. The whole world just has a nasty smarm on it. Everywhere you go, it’s just gross.
And even worse … the kids are all sweaty and ornery … and … just … around. Ugh. Diary … they’re just there. All the time.
That’s what I’m learning as an adult is the worst part about summer … No school. Sure … that was the best part when you were young. And kiddoes … soak it up while you got it. Because when you grow up and have kids of their own … Summertime is just one long, hot, sweaty fight between siblings.
We’re like two weeks in to the summer and I’m already convinced that one of my kids is gonna defeat the other one in some sort of Game of Thrones-style battle. And if I’m being honest, I’m not really helping since just last night I *may* have said “The two of you just fight to the death and let me know who wins.” I can’t take it anymore! They’re just actually laying on top of each other to drive each other insane.
And speaking of the fighting … Diary … they fight about the dumbest, least significant things on Earth. Yesterday’s fight? Who gets to open the door to the driveway. The two of the grabbing for the doorknob all “GNAHHH GNAHHH GNAHHH … I wanna open the door!”
ENOUGH!!
“But I was here first”
I hate that claim by the way. Like the world is just one big game of calling “Shotgun,” and as long as you say you were first, that’s all that matters. I don’t care who was first. You’re fighting over a doorknob!!!!!
Man, I gotta think even if you go to war-torn Taliban and ISIS areas of this world would be like … “Ok enough with the doorknob, this is ridiculous.”
Diary … I don’t think we’re gonna make it thru the summer. Add in the fact that my son, he’s three, which means he’s chock full of attitude, he’s got this new thing where in addition to just being a stinker all the time, he’s now getting Mommy and Daddy specific with his demands.
Like yesterday, I’m sitting on the couch … “Daddy I want milk.”
My wife … in the kitchen at the time … says “Ok, Ill get you milk.”
“No! I want Daddy do it! You get me milk!”
Well hello there little dictator! I ain’t getting up and getting you milk when somebody else is already in there who can get you the same exact milk.
“No … you do it!”
:::SNIFF::: Diary … I’m not gonna make it. It’s hot .. and these children are mean! I’m going crazy … I’m not gonna make it! :::SNIFF:::
Man I love fall.
Already taunting me. Their book bags … hanging on those hooks … just saying “Send me back to school, pleeeeease!”
Man I miss fall.
Till next time Diary, I say, goodbye.