Je suis culpable

I am strapped for ideas. E is going through a somewhat vocal phase, uttering word-like things I don't understand, becoming frustrated when I don't understand, as I begin to panic... like a horse with a novice rider she senses my confusion and applies a high-decibel keening of a frequency similar to that of, of a little girl, and then I am hooped.


Mo-wo looks at me: You panicked, didn't you?

So now they both know, but I am unwilling to admit to the fear: Your mother called here 4 times today. What's that about?

You are an idiot.

Your mom clearly has obsessive-compulsive disorder.

You are an idiot.

I mean, she knows we work- why call here 4 times? I mean, really?

You are an idiot.

I am an idiot.


Good times, people, the best.

PMO