i want my baby back, baby back, baby back …

I know i already posted today, but this couldn’t wait.

I am going out tonight with my lady friends. What? I know. Anyway, this leaves the mister in charge of dinner for everyone but me. #1 is now gluten free and this presents some interesting challenges because he is supah resistant to these changes and the mister and I are still learning the gluten is in fucking EVERYTHING! So, he says ‘Hey, how about ribs?’ and #3 screams ‘NO WE CAN’T EAT RIBS!!!’ The mister looks at me and I start dying.  Flashback to Wednesday …

#3 and I are walking into the bank and he is singing the Chili’s song. ‘I want my baby back, baby back, baby back. Chili’s baby back OH MY GOD RIBS ARE MADE OF BABIES!’

At this point we are in the bank, and if we’ve met, you’ve heard me laugh, and you know it’s. not. quiet. I am guffawing in the bank, trying to assure my 5 year old that baby back ribs are, indeed not made of babies. The man behind me in line hears what we are talking about starts to giggle. A lot. He says ‘I’m so sorry, but THAT is funny.’

Tricky thing, that English language, when you are only 62 months old.  Poor kid thinks we’ve been feeding him baby backs all these years. I’d be scared too.

for the happy,



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