I don't know what's funnier - that Angie's mental calendar brain-farted on the actual date for our dinner with Grams and Opa or that they showed up anyway after Angie frantically called them from the restaurant asking them why the hell they hadn't shown up. We're hungry.
I would have to go with Angie screwing up. I know, this happens too often to feasibly keep track of, but it never ceases to amuse me. That, plus the fact that this time, it was clearly not my fault. As trivial as this may seem, Angie is the master at twisting blame and bending guilt and more often than not, I'm at the receiving end of her aggressive finger waggering.
Don't get me wrong - I'm certainly not an innocent virgin when it comes to angering Angie's digits. But, when it comes to organizing events on weekdays after 5:00 PM - Angie is both the Responsible and Accountable; I'm never Consulted and very rarely Informed. So, to make a long explanation blatantly clear using military slang - Angie was the one that screwed the pooch.
I racked my brain trying to come up with a clever way to segway from the previous paragraph to this one, but for my own personal safety, I'll just show Tom's new pet instead.
I would have to go with Angie screwing up. I know, this happens too often to feasibly keep track of, but it never ceases to amuse me. That, plus the fact that this time, it was clearly not my fault. As trivial as this may seem, Angie is the master at twisting blame and bending guilt and more often than not, I'm at the receiving end of her aggressive finger waggering.
Don't get me wrong - I'm certainly not an innocent virgin when it comes to angering Angie's digits. But, when it comes to organizing events on weekdays after 5:00 PM - Angie is both the Responsible and Accountable; I'm never Consulted and very rarely Informed. So, to make a long explanation blatantly clear using military slang - Angie was the one that screwed the pooch.
I racked my brain trying to come up with a clever way to segway from the previous paragraph to this one, but for my own personal safety, I'll just show Tom's new pet instead.
Holy crap! Look at that filthy animal! You can tell it's after dinner just by looking at Tom's shirt. You can probably even make out what he had attempted to eat. Someone should really beat the crap out of that boy's Mama with the hygiene stick. I know we have three kids and that the cleanliness level tends to drop a notch or twelve with each additional puppy, but come on! You would think that somewhere in the suitcase that Angie calls a purse you might find a wet-wipe or a napkin or at least a Brillo pad and kitchen sink to scrub off Pig Pen's chin gravy.
Peter and David tend to get giddy shortly after feeding. Something about mastication must release happy hormones that makes their brains giggle. Throw in an ice-cream and they just get their goofy on.
I don't know what's funnier - that after pinging Peter's Serotonin levels, we had the audacity to demand dinner again tomorrow night, at the same restaurant, for our originally scheduled date, or that Tommy's high chair had a label on it that read: 'Peg-Perego'. Okay, the last would only be funny if a) you're not Angie and b) you have read any of the stories from when Angie was preggified with Nonameyet.--------------------------------------------
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I laughed 'cause Davey was dancing so funny.
David: When I danced so funny.
2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I couldn't play no more.
David: When I bonked me on my head 'cause my foot hurting was.
3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play with Dalia.
David: To play bee-la-ka-lo.
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