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Posted by Mummy Dearest on May-22-2010

We simply had to do some things today. Pick up The Boy’s bike from the party last night ( he had a great time), get The Baby some black summer shoes ( yes, she is now at that age), a game for The Boy and dirt for Mummy Dearest. Dirt. Two sorts, in fact. This is not exciting.

As The Boy and I went through this small sortof Mall ( Hey, Boy, go ask that Girl where these shoes are. You are better looking than I am and we will be helped very promptly. I was right.), The Boy suggested that I not speak to Cecil. His take was that whenever I open my mouth, I piss Cecil off.

And I do.

Cecil became very annoyed with me this morning when I started getting annoyed with Murder Bird. I explained this : Murder Bird pulls on this piece of string It reminds me of boys swinging their leg up and down and thumping on tables, like they are drummers. I loathe repetitive noises.

Are we there yet ? Are we there yet ? Are we there yet ?

But mostly, the inhabitants of Casa Kitchen are getting very tired of the fact that I talk to birds, cooking pots, newspapers, myself, all of the time. I am so used to being alone. I am not accustomed to the presence of others.

I am really working on biting my tongue.

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