Letters to the Pet Housewife: Episode 1

I have a pet housewife. She’s been a friend of mine for eons, her son and Thing 3 are near the same age, and we have the same twisted sense of humour. We’ve had a Facebook message chat ongoing for nearly a year now, where we just talk to each other in the true 21st century way of having a conversation. A lot of times, I end up railing on about the kids and their massive penchant for shenanigans. Edited for personal details, of course.

 

Me: Oop, the smoke detector went off, I think the adults are making a frozen pizza! Hahaha.
I had an Amy’s Texas veggie burger with cheese and tomato on bread. I am awesome.
Oh boy. Now Thing 2 is yelling in an attempt to be even more obnoxious than the smoke detector. Le sigh. Good thing the door is CLOSED!

PH: Child versus smoke alarm? ARGH.

Me: Oh, my bad. I found out that he found that if he yells or coughs, the level in the magic bag goes up! But I yelled him down first. “Kid, I can go longer AND louder than you, and if I hear you again, I am SO coming in here and getting you!” This was after the “AAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” bit we did back and forth for a bit. And then I called him a barbecue chicken, which is this month’s wordy dird, which lead him to yell “NO YOU ARE A BARBECUE LEMON!” and we started hollering at each other, leading his mom to ask “Is the autistic child yelling at the smoke detector?” “No, he’s just an idiot, he found out yelling makes the bag level go up.” “He’s brilliant!” “You know what? BARBECUE CHICKEN.” “I’m ignoring ALL of you monsters!” “BARBECUE CHICKEN, MOMMY.” Which had Thing 2 yelling “YOU’RE A LEMON APPLE, BARBECUE!” at me.
Oh, my life.

PH: I…… ……. okay. *L*

 

 

 

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