It's the day I don't make my kids do school and they can watch all the Saturday morning cartoons they want. Speaking of which, I hope my boys seeing Jerry with a swarm of obviously girl mouses in love with him will clear up that mouse gender confusion. But I digress.
Jeff's at work, which is the norm. I hoped to sleep in, and as luck would have it the boys were awake and at 'em before 6:30 am. Oh, the humanity. Consequently, it's a lazy morning. They're both in their underwear, simultaneously watching tv and jumping on the couches. Clever advertisements have already caused my boys to ask if they can go to McDonald's 3 times and Jace had a fit when I told him that no, he could not have ice cream for breakfast. We compromised on a PB & J (no, not Pam Beesley & Jim) sandwich, which he promptly ate half of and handed the other half to JOHN. You heard me right. As I was buttering toast for Jamison, Jace came in proudly sing-songing and cheering that he shared his peanut butter sandwich with my 7 month old. NOOOOOOO!!! Of all the things to share with him, dude. That's the ONLY one I don't want. Well, he seems to be okay. . . after getting over the shock of me tearing that balled up sandwich out of his fist and wiping off the Peter Pan Peanut butter from his hands and face.
It's a hot one today. You'll find me outside by that little pool trying to get a little sun on this ghastly white bod. And the yard is in serious need of a mowing, so peace out.