So, Mom. I need to talk to you for a minute. First of all, don't get mad because I peed in the tupperware bowl in Trevor's room. I didn't want to walk to the bathroom and I didn't want a spankin', so that was my only other option. Now, don't get mad again, but I was in Rilee's room and noticed my hair was getting a little shaggy. It's like, a half inch long since you shaved it after I shaved it. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but me and Bwakey decided that I am better at cutting hair than you are. So I did a little work on both of us again. It's like the 9th time, so I'm gettin' pretty good. We bonded. So much, that we went to the kitchen and dumped the giant apple juice bottle out on the floor. Nope, we couldn't wait for help. We just shared a puddle of that delicious beverage. Both of us. On our bellies. Doin' the breast stroke. Slurpin' it off the wood floor. It is so good that way.
I hope you still love me.
Brock
No comments:
Post a Comment