I got up, stumbled to the kitchen, poured myself a cup of ambition....oh wait.
That's another story...
I got up, got coffee and mopped up the puddles that the old, incontinent dog left me.
(the poor thing....we should euthanize him.)
As usual...I heaved my enormous backside up the narrow stairs of doom, (I call them this because of all of the hotwheels and train tracks that litter them)
I went in and woke up sister with my sing-song voice.
What I think I sounded like: "Awaken dear daughter and greet the morn with your lovely visage!"
What I probably, really sounded like: "Sis! Get up! I'm running late!!! Stupid snooze button!..."
Then I headed into ricks room. Now, this takes some time as he has created an anti-mom barricade outside of his door. So, after I dodged the thomas trains, scaled the train table and managed to avoid the lego mine field, I entered his room to see this:
To explain, that is a really bad illustration of rick's room, his race car bed, and him...completely covered by his blanket. He is a blue lump.
So, I said to him: "Rick! It's time to get up for school!!! It's tessera day!!! Yay!!!"
And he says: "smell my pit."
I say: "um, I will not smell your pit"
He says: "Smell my pit."
I say: "no, I will not smell your pit. That is gross."
He says: "If you want me to get up and ready for school, you will smell my pit."
Now, here I am left with a quandary.
Do I smell the pit?
Do I walk away?
Do I pour a bucket of cold water on him?
I choose the mom-of-the-year route:
" Sister didn't make me smell her pit, and I'm not smelling your pit. Get up before I have the dog come sit on your head."
His response?
A large, explosive, loud, make-any-frat-boy-cry-in-shame fart.
Welcome to mornings with Rick...
I need more coffee...
