I poured the kettle way too fast tonight, splashing a small amount of boiling water on my foot. Damn that hurt.
The splash was small enough that complaining makes me look like a wuss but enough that I'm smarting and it's red. I'm such a numbskull.
You know SB makes fun of me because I rarely finish a cup of tea or coffee yet I'm always preparing one or the other. I was born a tea drinker into a family of tea drinkers, who took on the coffee addiction in university - just like all my other sibs.
And don't even get me started into the latte tradition that has been going at least five years strong in my immediate family. How we are also sleep lovers is beyond me.
In my extremely weak defence of wasting beverages - especially those caffeinated, it's a long time ailment of mine. Since I can remember, I've always walked away from glasses of milk and juice, cups of tea and coffee, even glasses of wine and completely forget they exist.
Strangely enough, it doesn't happen with beer or vodka.
Organic in nature? Who knows, but I've been a long time sufferer.
What? You think it's an annoying quirk? You've been talking to SB haven't you?
Anyhow, for my entertainment this evening, Bumper rediscovered her "robot" bionicle Phantoka - you know, every little girls dream doll.
Originally I gave it to SB for Christmas but she claimed it as her baby robot and the conversations between the two were priceless. Like all toys he eventually fell out of favour and was sentenced to the toy box floor only to be rescued and perched above the desk of his rightful owner.
Today he caught her attention again and she noticed that the weapon stash he held in his rib cage was missing. I told you it was a dream doll - it comes with it's own defence system. Anyhow, the rib cage contained a case that held four rubber grenades - about the size of small marbles so needless to say, she saw them once and then I packed them away for safety.
Even I have my sensible parent moments.
Anyhow, following the innate toddler commandment, "thou shall forget nothing, especially the stuff you wish I'd forget", she started screaming:
"WHERE ARE HIS BALLS MOMMY! WHERE! ARE! HIS! BALLS! WE MUST FIND HIS BAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLSSSSS".
It's like living in a National Lampoon movie, folks, just like a National Lampoon movie.