Friday, September 5, 2008

How Brat Baby Keeps Her Name!

I can go on and on about the ways that Brat Baby is able to still retain the head position as Brat in our family but I will just share with you something that happened to me less than five minutes ago.

I wont even share last night or the day before.

I am practicing control.

Which brings me to my next blog, Momma practicing control.


Anyway back to my story.

We have one bathroom in our little shack that all six of us have shared.

We have never had two bathrooms.

So out of common courtesy in our home, you DO NOT LOCK THE BATHROOM DOOR.

I personally do not have any trouble with someone walking in when I am using the bathroom or taking a bath.

No big deal here.

So Brat Baby had been in the bathroom doing her make-up and she stepped out for a minute.

Well I had had a cup of coffee and with no gallbladder things do not stay with me very long.

So I make a mad dash to the open throne.

Brat Baby walks in and she says:

Brat Baby: OH MY GOD MOTHER, SERIOUSLY!

Momma: WHAT!

Brat Baby: You are disgusting!

Momma: Since when do you not shit, you little shit!

Brat Baby: Well Seriously!

Momma: Yes, I AM SERIOUS.

Just then I reach for the roll of not so soft paper and wouldn't you know it, I am at the end of the roll and I will have to ask the no shitting Brat to go and get me more toilet paper.

So she leaves to go get the toilet paper and comes back with a box of tissues.

Just my luck!

I hope you don't reach he end of the roll today and come up short.

Happy Friday!

3 comments:

Heather said...

TOILET PAPER - another thing to add to my ever-growing list. You'd have been shit-outta-luck (literally) at our casa. We don't have kleenix!!

No really, just random thoughts said...

How about me and another genious roommate. At least you didn't have to use the cardboard of the roll. Ouch!

Picture Momma said...

Well, I'd would have had to offer ya some High School Musical napkins that I never got to use for your birthday party. Luckily, Trauma Karl has a bad OCD fear about running out of toilet paper so we never run out.