Mr. Sasha and I had a problem. The problem was The Wet Spot. I solved the problem of The Wet Spot with Liberator Fascinator Throes. Okay, no, not really. The Liberator Fascinator INSPIRED me to use something more like this Fleece Blanket w/Waterproof Back (Tan ). Someday, maybe, I’ll get a very expensive blanket that’s made specifically for love juice. But for now, yay for love blankies we can bring on picnics!  (I wash it, minions. Of course I do.  And if eating off my picnic blanket grosses you out, you should probably never sit on my couch. Or eat at my dining room table. Or, just, like stand anywhere in my house.)

 

We call it the “fuzzy blankie”.

 

Last night, Drama Queen and Miss Poopie Pants were playing rodeo with Daddy on my bed. He was the bull. At one point, he had enough and rolled over sticking all four appendages up in the air, declaring himself the “dead bull”.

 

I said “I hope the bull’s not too dead.”

 

“Why, mommy?”

 

“Because I need him to put the fuzzy blankie on the bed.”

 

Mr. Sasha picked his head up and said “The bull will be fine if the cow is feeling energetic.”

 

Did my husband just call me a cow?  Shit. I’ll let it go. It’s a metaphor.

 

“Well, the cow’s feeling great. Get the calves to bed.”

 

“Let’s go, calves, hit the hay!”

 

Yeah, we know about beating dead horses in this house. And dragging them behind the car for a few miles.

 

Moo, y’all.

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