Why I Drink

This is a rough approximation of my side of the conversation I had with my four-year-old last night as I was attempting to relax in the tub and finish a nice glass of wine. Because only my bathroom will do when nature calls at ten o'clock. 

Do I really have to wipe you? Well, I don't want to do it either. Fine. Okay, you asked me to get out of the tub to wipe your bottom, you'll have to deal with the suds and the water. Yes, the rug will dry. Look, you already pulled up your pants. If there was pee on your penis, it's been completely absorbed by your underwear. I know you're wearing your Tuesday underwear and not your Friday underwear. No, I am not getting your Friday underwear now. You can wear them next Friday and besides, it will be Saturday in roughly two hours. No, I am not getting the Saturday underwear, it's not Saturday. Yes, I will remember. You can wait seven hours. Jesus. Please go to bed. No, I already read "All My Friends Are Dead." I'm not reading it again. Your sister is asleep in the other room and if you wake her up, I will grow another head and spit blood. Yes, I will. Mommy is naked, wet, and now cold. Go to bed. Seriously. I love you, too. 

Never mind the dumb shit...

And it's dumb shit 99% of the time. I have to remind myself of this often, because I tend to get more worked up by the dumb shit than the important shit.