My mom and dad are here for the weekend babysitting my nephew. It’s Mom’s turn to entertain the baby:
“Old McDonald had a farm E I E I O. And on that farm he had a cow E I E I O. With a moo moo here and a moo moo there, here a moo, there a moo, everywhere a moo moo. Old McDonald had a farm E I E I O.”
(Deep breath.)
“Old McDonald….(long pause)….had another cow.”
He’s in the bathroom. He is INSISTING that I look like a certain celebrity– dead ringer. But won’t tell me til he gets back.
His answer determines whether I stay or go.
Me: “Read the title of this poem. What do you think it’s about?”
Kid: “A lion.”
What is the answer?! I’m serious. I don’t know what to tell the kids.
Kid walks up to me: “Miss Emily, I have to spit.”
As he says it, huge wad of spit falls out of his mouth and lands on the floor in front of me.
A master’s degree.
(Part of the Emails From My Brothers series)
Sent while Jeremy was staying with Steph the day before Thanksgiving, and 2 days before Steph’s due date.
No, literally.
Kid: “Woah, Miss Emily! You look like me now!”
She’s Indian.
I can already check “Receive Passive Aggressive Text” off my New Years resolution list– which is great news, because that and “Don’t Respond to Passive Aggressive Text” were the only two things on it!
Clap clap DONE, guys! 👍
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