It’s all my fault. Yep. According to my kids, it’s all my fault.
DJ got into the car today. Her hands were full: book bag, books and a satchel with her workout clothes. I’d been waiting in front of school for 10 or 12 minutes and was reading through my daily mail. When the door opened, I didn’t respond appropriately.
Apparently I should have immediately tossed down my mail and run to the opposite side of the car to help her get in. What was I thinking? Just inconsiderate.
The demon possessed person that I am has the audacity to require the two kids in the house who take piano lessons to practice. How in the world can that be more important than the Disney Channel? After four years of lessons and $6,000 I should just settle for Chop Sticks and Heart and Soul. I am so very thoughtless.
Out of milk? “Daaaaaad!”
Irrelevant that Jesse dropped by and drank two glasses at 10 pm. Why didn’t I run to the 24 hour grocery store? Clearly it was open…
I should be investigated by Social Services.
Wear a baseball cap to their school on a morning I don’t have to work? Emmmbarrrasssing! I’m such a dork.
“Are you about to go to bed?” I innocently inquire.
Picture the tone – “No!!! I HAVE MORE HOMEWORK.”
My fault too. Because apparently I am in cahoots with the History, Math and AP Biology teachers – paying them under the table for more difficult assignments for my child.
Oh, and by the way, all three girls say I favor the others. “She gets everything!”
“It’s because I love her more.”
I’m a bad, bad man.