(I’ll try to get them to do it again when you’re here tomorrow, but who knows.)
My children, my darling, sweet, adorable, totally WEIRD children, are wearing footie sleepers in preparation for an early bedtime. They just came walking in here, single-file, with their sleepers unzipped and pooled around their ankles. They shuffled and bounced like penguins on methamphetamines as they took turns declaring “WALK THIS WAY!” and waggling their character-underwear-clad derrieres.
Casa Mir, home to the half-naked parade of cartoon hero butts and overused but still funny jokes.
(Yes, I think Monkey’s feeling better. That Motrin I gave him seemed to help. Also I let him smoke some crack.)
(Chickadee would like me add–“Since Grandpa likes funny jokes!”–this joke: Q. How do you clean a tuba? A. With a tuba toothpaste!)