The winter of my discontent

On my way to work, I saw a bunch of little kids, like 6 or 7 years okd, waiting at the school bus stop. It was 8 degrees outside, with a wind chill of “fuck fuck, mother-ever-loving FUCK!”

See, this is why I can’t have kids. I barely got MYSELF out of bed this morning. If I’d had tiny people in my house whose main goal in life is to hang out, eat cereal, and watch cartoons? “OK, screw it. We’re taking a ‘snow’ day. You there, start the blanket fort. You, you’re on storytime, go pick out some books. What’s 2 + 2? Right, FOUR! Excellent, A+. Y’all are gonna be fine. I’m on breakfast — Pop Tarts sound good? Mommy’s going to have her special Irish coffee, and then I’ll be right with you.”

My kids would be the weird home-school kids at the beginning of “Mean Girls.” Hopefully minus the guns and homophobia.