By Request

(Now with update)

While El Guille and I were having an in depth discussion on the merits of bananas, the other resident of our east side loft was doing his worst.

Completely emptying my pocket book in record time is just the first trick. His mischief wouldn't be perfected without pulling the silicone earplugs off my Skullcandy, eating them, and then having the nerve to flash the "Take Me to Target" card along with the don't-blame-me expression.

He's so busy.

I guess it takes real work to destroy a home and all its contents within a cool ten minutes. He should form a union.

Hmm. Frying pan?

Oh, right, for porting the eggshells from the garbage can to the living room. Awesome.

You should consider eating them, too.
Oh? You already did? And now you can't get the little bits off your fingers because the raw egg makes the shells so sticky? More awesome.

Well, maybe a kiss would make me feel better.

But only if it accompanied by a "Uv Oou!"

Right, onto ripping out the plastic wrap and then complaining when your brother gets in the shot.

Not a moment to spare!


UPDATE:

Sometimes I feel like my children and I have different priorities.

For example, I took a shower this morning.

They got tattoos.


I had no idea Proximo was such a fan of Heath Ledger.