If you’re new around here, confessions is a time for us to all unburden ourselves of the silliness we’re feeling at the moment. I share dumb things, then you share dumb things, and we all have a better day because of it.
Let’s get started!
One afternoon we were driving to my sister-in-law’s and drove past this little farm that has four cows. Two of the cows were younger (teen calves? Cownangers?) and were FIGHTING. Like hooves a’flying. I’ve never seen a cow fight before and honestly, other than bulls hitting each other with their horns, I didn’t know they even could fight.
The boys were with me and were just as enamored by the whole thing as I was. Now, whenever we drive by that farm, we chant “fight, fight, fight” like we’re on a 1960s playground.
I don’t give a crap about the Friends or Sex in the City reunions. Not one little care in the world.
There is a person on our neighborhood community page who is constantly railing on other members of the neighborhood to buy American. If someone complains about car noise or the price of anything, he gets on there and mansplains how if that person had just bought a product made in the US, their issue would be solved.
I cannot stand social media and have no desire to use it to start drama. But every single time I see his stupid name on a post, I want to ask him which American-made cell phone or laptop he is using to educate us on not buying foreign products…
At least once a day Bennett asks me “are you thinking what I’m thinking”. The answer is no. No child, I am definitely, 100% not thinking what you are thinking.
He could be standing in front of the open pantry with a snack in his hand, but what he’s thinking about is creating a fort out of boogers up on the roof for his stuffed kitties.
My brain does not remotely align with what this little destructo-bot squirrel has going through his mind.
I was driving down one of the main roads through town last week on my way to get Bennett from preschool. And without warning, my head felt like it doubled in size, my nose closed up and I started sneezing my face off.
Within one-fourth of a mile, I turned a corner and found there was a county rotary mower cutting the grass on a hillside. My sensitivity to grass being cut is so fine-tuned that I could smell it more than a quarter of a mile away.
I told Troy that I wish my “powers” could be used for good. Could being able to smell freshly cut grass solve crimes? Could I potentially be the lamest superhero in the Marvel Cinematic Universe? Histamine Girl?
Ok, friends, your turn! What do you need to confess?