Did I Split The Log?

Or did the log split me?

I've been feeling bad (well, worse than usual) since Sunday. Constipated beyond belief. Acute Turd Poisoning. And this morning, early, I finally passed the baby hippo, so hard it pulled in my soft spot. And then I had to beat it to death with a hammer. It is difficult to wipe your butt when you are floating weightless around the bathroom.

Last night during family TV time I paused the TV so I could go in and pass this bastard, but I was fruitless and did not multiply, though I did manage to pass some vapor past the vapor lock. Nearly peeled the paint off the walls. So I escaped, and went back to the TV.

Quite some time later, it became bedtime, and I began cracking the whip. One kid (John) upstairs to brush teeth, Nat downstairs. She crashed into there to begin her ablutions, then staggered out crying and choking...my Air-Child had been waiting in there to pounce on the first person foolish enough to step into it's lair.

I made her stay in there and brush her teeth, as she gagged and spit and cried. Hey, you gotta make em tough. Me? I stayed outside the kill zone, and directed. The wife, being a veteran, rushed past holding her breath, running upstairs to climb above its rated ceiling.

Nat finally rushed out, looking like a trainee fresh out of the tear-gas chamber.

God gave us all these natural toys to play with, we should honor him by playing with them. And with the toys of others. If they'll sit still for it. And not call the police.