When I got home yesterday after The Lunch Incident, after the Boy had been alone in my all-female house, this is what I found:
When I called him to demand an explanation (or, er, calmly inquire about WHAT THE HELL HE THOUGHT HE WAS DOING) (or, er, --insert something fake and nice--), his response?
The Boy: Hey, at least I flushed.
He's coming with me to visit the Little Guys tonight. Hopefully it will melt my ovaries and save his soul.
Hardly Optimisticly,
Jordan
1 comment:
Ha! At least he (partly) tried. Much more training needed. Maybe time for a shock collar?
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