If Ever a Burglar...

Dared to break into my house, and the baby (hereafter known as Bee) and I happened to be sleeping? I would totally kick his ass. I mean, unless he didn't wake us up. In which case, it'd all be cool. But if Bee and I happened to be frolicking about as is not unusual for us in the early, early AM (Bee is TOTALLY a Zube, that boy can party late night with the best of them), I would most likely hand Bee and his bottle over to the would-be burglar, grab his big black sack and fill it with the metric ton of SHIT that is bursting through the seams of my house. I'd even offer our garage up for his use to have himself a little garage sale bonanza. And I'd make lemonade. Spiked with vodka. So people would get drunk enough to buy our crap. He might want to leave his ninja suit at home and dress all civilian-like so as not to scare potential buyers away. He can put the suit on once everyone gets good and tipsy and things get really wild and people are whooping it up, swirling my incongruos collection of soup spoons through the air, though. I think once spoon in air swirling begins, all bets on attire are off. It's ninja time. I mean, if he happens to be into that sort of thing. Which, well, seeing as that's how we met...or would meet. If, you know, such a thing ever happened.

I've come to the conclusion that having teeny kids is not conducive to writing. Yeah. What can I say? I'm a little slower than you all who've had that shit figured out for, oh, I don't know, two and a half years now? I've decided to be okay with it. I mean, the fact that I don't have the kind of time I need to write doesn't change the fact that I like to write. There is so much manual labor involved with Zee and Bee right now that I'll merely have to take out my penchant for writing by making interesting grocery lists. And badgering innocent bystanders. "Um, excuse me grocery store man, but would you kindly tell me where I can find pacifier screws? Oh yes, you know, the ones that fit in the little holes of the pacifier so you can screw them to the baby's mouth? I can't seem to find them. And also, do you happen to know any pediatric surgeons? I still can't seem to locate the screw holes on the baby. It's entirely possible that I've missed them as I'm usually looking whilst in a sleep-deprived state at 2AM, but..."

Anyway, you can rest assured that while I'm decidedly NOT busy letting you know about every tiny hair that grows out of my chin here, I will be screwing around somewhere in the world.