Ugh, what a shit-ass day. I think it's a combination of my bum foot, the goddamn Arctic tundra that is my basement and me just being a warped, frustrated old man, Mr. Potter. Unfortunately, I carried along my mood with me when I went to pick up the spawnage, after school, and I kinda 'sploded a tad.
So, I pick them up from after-care on Thursdays and Miss O usually doesn't want to leave. Understandable, as she likes to hang with her homies... I get it. But when she saw me, she crawled under the craft table and started yelling at me to leave. I laughed it off and then did a wacky pull-her-back-out-comically-by-her-legs move, that would usually get a chuckle out of her. Did she chuckle? Fuck no. She threw some papers at me. Fucking hilarious.
Then, one of the kids there tells me that Mr. Z spit on her on the playground. Mind you, she's kind of a freaky, skeleton-y albino kid that I've seen around before, so I took her salivary-saga with a grain of salt. I asked Mr. Z what the shit was up, and he started denying it, flipping his lid and yelling... AT ME?! So I've got both of these little spazmos screaming at my ass, and I'm standing there like a fucking jagoff.
We get out to the car and I kinda raised my voice, which I do, maybe, never, and told them that it was pretty shitty of them chew my ass out when they were the ones acting like dicks. It was a wonderful Crabbyfamily moment -- actually, I wish I had had my camera with me, cuz it would've been a phenomenal cover for this year's holiday card. A picture of me yelling and the two of them crying and written under it in gold leaf, "Crabby Holidays, Fuckers!"
I smoothed it all out by the time we got home and managed to salvage a moment or two of quality, happy-go-lucky time before bedtime, but I'm tellin' ya, this day definitely ripped me a new one... or seven. It's okay, though, 'cuz I get to do it all over again tomorrow!
Did I mention that I wore my snowpants in the basement today?
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