Twyste

Last week I mentioned that in one of my less than Hallmark-worthy parenting moments, I kicked a hole in a wall. I am a good mom, so how could that be? Oh, trust me, it can happen.

I think I can pretty succinctly sum up the story as follows:

Jason was gone.

The dog puked.

The kids pooped.

The poop was on the wall.

I kicked a hole in the wall.

The end.

There you have it. Beginning, middle, end. A complete story. If that’s good enough for you, you’re done with today’s post. However, if you’re into gory details and somehow can’t see how the natural and unavoidable ending to that story involved a hole in the wall, then, by all means read my next post, entitled… “when the *spit* hits the fan”.