Walked into a doorknob again...

D: That's quite a black eye.
Me: I know.
D:  Your arms are covered in bruises, too.
Me:  The Toddler keeps kicking the crap out of me.
Me again:  (yawning), man, why am I so tired all the time?
D:  Maybe it's cancer.
Me:  Probably.  Then I'll die and you'll have to raise these three kids all by yourself.
D:  No, it's not that kind of cancer.  It's just the kind where all your hair falls out but you still live.
Me:  Is it at least the kind of cancer where you lose weight?
D:  No.  You'll just have to have your asshole removed or something.


Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] said...

I hope for the kind of sickness that lands me on the couch for a few weeks, someone waits on me hand & foot, I'm completely comfortable, and I lose 75 pounds.

I need to find out what sickness that is and breathe someone's air.

Banteringblonde said...

I always thought a 28 day stint in one of those swank rehabs would be nice. Massage, yoga, good food, therapy with a cute shrink who would have to listen to me bitch cause it's his job -- i guess the only thing missing would be wine but I could give that up for 28 days.

Mandy said...

Oh my gosh, mama! Don't let that little baby hurt you! You could cut off his cookie supply *snap* like THAT if he tries it again!