Why is it that when I have the time to use the restroom my insidey parts lock up, but when it's completely inconvenient for me to assume the position (translation, "have a poo,") the gate opens and the inside of my guts looks like a mattress-store commercial, people crowding around the door, pushing and shoving, unconcerned with the fact that the mattress-store isn't open. Yep. That's the metaphor I chose.
At the moment, however, I'm distracted from my plight by a sleepy one year-old in a high chair. He's doing his best to wake himself up by shaking his head from side-to-side, but to no avail. Every time he stops, he realizes that he's asleep. No matter how slobbery and whiny a child is, watching them fall asleep in spite of themselves always makes me like my job.
I should probably go lay him down.
Thank you,
Matt Beers
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