Mom: So what do you have planned for the day?
Me: The usual – squeezing a stinky banana smelling concoction down Simone’s throat, writing some ramblings, frolicking in the ‘boken.
Mom: Too bad you aren’t closer…
Me: I’m making guacamole for lunch. You should come SON OF A BITCH!! JESUS H. CHRIST! YOU’RE KILLING ME! HOLY MOTHER OF PEARL. MAKE IT END!!!
Mom: Ouch. Stop yelling.
Me: ARGH!! IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY! SNIVELING SNUFFLEUPAGUS!
Mom: Seriously. What the hell is wrong with you?!
Me: Lucy just attempted to jump in my lap. She overestimated her jumping skills, fell a little short, and decided to compensate with claws on bare legs.
Mom: You’re worse than your father. I swear I’ve never heard of anyone carrying on more than you two if God forbid you should have one little injury.
Me: Well, I might have inherited the drama gene from more than one side o’ the family.
Mom: Smart ass. NOW what’s that noise?
Me: I’m smearing betadine on this mess.
Mom: Are you bleeding?
Me: Ayup – from multiple sites.
Mom: Well, I guess its ok then.