You Never Know What’ll Be Said On Any Given Tuesday

I really don’t have anything to write tonight that is worth the time it takes you to read it.

It’s probably because I’ve just watched two back-to-back episodes of Paw Patrol with the toddler.  My biggest concern is that ten-year-old Ryder, who is the leader of the puppies who all run around rescuing everyone, never seems to call home and check in with his mother.  Surely she’s worried about him.  I know I’d worry about my 4th grader, if he was off running a band of talking dogs (who saves people and owls and lost kittens from imminent danger), and failed to call home.  I mean, I’m all for ten-year-olds having a good job and all, but he needs to let someone know if he’s taking his vitamins, eating balanced meals, wearing clothes that match and getting to bed by 8:00.

And that, folks, is about the extent of what I have for you tonight.  I apologize, from the very depths of my heart, especially if you were going to read this post to procrastinate on doing something bigger.

Like folding laundry.

Or unloading the dishwasher.

Or photocopying reports, because maybe you live a glamorous life that’s full of skyscrapers and $40 lunches and stiletto heels on Tuesdays.

My glamorous life involves such things as the toddler announcing to random people, “Mommy is all done pooping.”

I’d apologize for that last sentence, too, but I’m still recovering from the embarrassment.

Y’all have a good evening.

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