Here we go

I would love to waken up on a school day without the feeling of dread.  This morning it was justified.  I come downstairs to my youngest son screaming at me.  He wasn’t going to school unless I found his ‘right’ school shirt.  What the fuck is a right school shirt I wonder.  I go downstairs & find what I hope is his ‘right’ school shirt.  Hidden in a sea of ironed shirts it had been crushed & looked a mess.  How did I know it was the ‘right’ one?  It had a pen mark on the right cuff.  I re-ironed it & brought it upstairs.  He smirked as he called me a good dog.  If any one else called me that I would be seriously pissed.  Him trying to get a rise out of me on a Monday morning is always going to fail.  I answered him back with a ‘I know your shirt is mega important to you sweetie’.  Conversation over & he’s gone.  We didn’t exchange another word before his friends came to get him.  How the fuck he manages to keep friends is beyond me.  He’s a know it all with a seriously bad attitude.  It may only be 8am but I’m about ready to go back to bed.

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