all about balls

This morning we had an “incident” of a ball knocking over a drink after breakfast. Which led to the following conversation:

ME: “You can NO LONGER play with your balls IN this house!”

The Boy: “I wasn’t playing with my balls!”

ME: “You were playing with your balls and now everything is all wet. Help me clean up this mess. RIGHT. NOW!”

Later. At the bus stop, after he walked over with a huge pout on his face, I said: “I don’t want you going to school mad. I love you very much. You just can’t play with your balls in this house any more.”

The Boy: “But what about ‘The Girl”?”

The Girl: “I don’t even have any balls!”

And that, my friends, is how I sent my kids off to school this morning…

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