But the point is: I like watching my children. So why do I spend so much time hiding in the office, browsing the Internet for stories about Ron Paul? Because the kids, they always notice me watching them. And when they notice me they ask me to play, too. And when they ask me to play they get all blinky and darling and how can I say no? And then . . . well, it happens like this:
Maybe the six-year-old guiles me into a game of tea party. Just when I’m about to take a bite of plastic donut: WHAM! She trips on a toy and smashes her big head into my jaw.
Or maybe the infant convinces me to join her in a game of peek-a-boo. And just after I uncover my face for the fifteenth time to intone “PEEEEEKERRRRRRRRRRS!” she leaps unexpectedly and WHAM! I take a head to the bottom of the nose.
Or maybe the boy child tricks me into the Oh No Vortex (this is a really great game, let me tell you) and I’m tickling him happily when WHAM! The kid throws his unusually hard noggin into my eye socket.
Playing with kids . . . it’s dangerous man. The computer is nice and safe. No bruises, no bite marks, no band-aids.
But what am I to do? I shall never qualify for Mother of the Year sitting at this keyboard all the time!
Lightweight. Comfortable. Stylish. My troubles are over.
Your troubles could be over, too. For the low, low price of three (3) chocolate bars I’ll fashion you something similar and ship it your way! Order in the next 45 seconds and I’ll throw in the Out About Town version for free:
Order now. You know you want to. Operators are standing by.