The Inmates Are Running the Asylum

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One evening last week before my trip to Atlanta, my kids were beating on each other as usual...

My son told my daughter, "That's why you've got boogers in your nose!"

[Both of them are currently being battered by seasonal allergies.]

My daughter paused to assess herself then walked out of the kitchen into the living room to wipe her nose on the arm of the couch across from me. My left eyebrow cocked (a telltale sign of my fury) and I leaned forward to lash out. But then I stopped to look at the couch, which happens to be dirty as hell thanks to the two of them.

I relaxed my forehead and sat back against the cushion, making a mental note to wipe down the couch arm later (which I forgot to do).

Luckily, my wife wasn't around. I fully expect her to be horrified once she reads this.


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