Write about: the bomb.
Went grocery shopping with Miles this morning after we dropped Max off at playschool. While he was having fun making a Cat in the Hat hat, Miles enjoyed driving around the store in the grocery cart and I was able to get all the shopping done.
Worked out nicely.
This afternoon while Miles napped, Max came with me to my chiropractor appointment and then we squeezed in a bit of park time before coming home to take care of Miles so that Kat could finish up with some work she was doing.
Before dinner, and a little bit after, Max and I attempted to clean up and organize his room. It was not easy with Miles 'helping', but we did get rid of three cardboard boxes he'd been hoarding in there (two of them on the very large side of things). It looks loads better now, but we still have his craft box, his toy box, and his bookshelf to tackle.
They say that I am a
Ticking time bomb.
That I am only safe when
I remain calm.
I am offended by this.
I don't like this claim at all.
Can't handle my heat?
Can't wait until my fall?
Christ, y'all make me sick.
Keep your distance if you're scared.
Keep running but if you cross me
Know that you won't be spared.