Rippin Good Times.

We had the busiest weekend. I survived. Mostly by alcohol intake.

This morning, Big Kiss was coming down from the High of the weekend I think: he slept late, was a whiny bitch, threw a tantrum on the sidewalk, calmed down then was skipping (break my heart) and fell and busted his knees. Both of them, ripped up. Ensue MONSTER tears and screams. He didn't want a bandaid. He didn't want to wash it. That was super fun, believe me.

So I had to leave him screaming while I headed on home.

Why did I have to go home, you may be pondering? In my rush to aid my crying busted-knee child, I ripped my pants. Not because I, too, fell, but because they just don't fit anymore.

Fucking AWESOME.