(Otherwise known as a cheater post)
This morning the odd little old lady with whom I'd had an appointment last night called and scolded me for forgetting it. Then I learned my laid back boss is leaving and my work load will be doubling. I got home an hour after I was supposed to tonight and my adorable father in law didn't say anything but he looked tired and quickly left. The hamburger was still frozen so I popped in a pizza except The Girl doesn't like pizza any more (insert wildly inappropriate genetic joke about falling too far from the tree) and she asked for spaghetti via Proloquo instead. I am powerless to resist when she uses Proloquo spontaneously. Except we don't have spaghetti and given the choice between poop-brown Extra Fiber! Penne and nuclear-orange mac&cheese she picked the latter. In my head I start calling it Italian night because nothing screams Venice like frozen pizza and boxed macaroni. I find salad in the back of the fridge which is surprisingly not gross despite being from last weekend but I snacked on all the toppings last night so I just add dressing except there's no spout on the dressing and I drown the salad.
Then the dog ate half the pizza.
Pity my children if you must, but let's agree the only genetic flaw in their lives may be their mother and her poor domestic skills.
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