Weekend Wobblies…

Wobbly because till things get set right, it’s always wobbly and might even topple over. Like the unending towers my kid builds. I’ve usually found that one can accurately predict that a small person (not being politically correct about the midgets and others of their ilk) lives in a particular house. It’s not always the…

Saturday Bloglet

When your ever-active 7 year-old starts imitating Woody Woodpecker’s laugh before the caffeine has infiltrated your bloodstream and you think he sounds like a cross between a constipated horse and a psychotic clown.

There’s A Dinosaur In My Bra!

No. I’m not high. Yes, I wish I was. And yes, I have a child. Ergo the weird things ending up where they ideally ought not to. Sitting down and finding a clothes pin jammed up in your butt crack is passe. Stepping on Batman and theoretically emasculating him when you get up to pee…