It is a forgone conclusion that, as a parent, you are going to be saying certain things you otherwise would not. “Not in my house you don’t. Because I said so. Don’t put that in your nose.” And the like. And then you will find yourself saying truly bizarre things. Today I said this: “Take the food out of my boot!”
Hubby and I have both found interesting things in our shoes, mostly toys. But once or twice, I’ve found miniature puddles in my shoes because Pumpkin dumped or spit water in them. Yep, she’s a spitter. Today I caught her in the act, putting a piece of chocolate in one of my boots! At least I caught it before it melted in there. Ick.
“Son! Stop biting the dog!” You think that’s a comedy sketch. It isn’t. I’ve said it.
“Son! Stop climbing the dad-gum doorway!”
“Girl! Why are you outside on the porch? Naked?” This was a dozen years ago or so now, early on a Sunday morning.
And just now, “Son. Stop sitting on my box. You’re going to break it.” It’s my gray plastic file box.
It could be worse. When you first said, “…miniature puddles in my shoes…”