Forks in the Flowerbed

I walked outside yesterday to yell at my children for something. Don't worry - I am sure that they deserved it and they didn't even listen to me so I doubt that it will cause considerable damage to their little souls. When I turned to go back into the house, I looked down and saw a fork laying in the flowerbed. A fork. In the flowerbed. Of course my first thought was "how the heck did that get there?". Then I remembered. Oh yeah ! I have children ! Therefore, it is not unusual to find the kitchen utensils in the flowerbeds or the bowls under their actual beds or plates in the clothes dryer.


I have simply stopped asking the question "how did that get there?", because the answer according to the children is always either "I don't know" or "it wasn't me". I have come to the conclusion that the answer to all questions asked by me or to me from now on will be, "because I have children". Why didn't you get any sleep last night? Because I have children. Why is there an empty package of gum in your purse? Because I have children. Why does your car smell like you let monkeys with gastrointestinal problems lose in there? Because I have children. Why is there a fork in the flowerbed. Because I have children. Why do you write this blog to vent out your frustations instead of drinking wine directly from the box? Because I have children.


Just wait though - as soon as those little darlings are out of the house - this chick is buying stock in some boxed wine !