Therapy will be expensive.

 Saturday night. Been a busy day. Me and Loser did the grocery shopping by ourselves. I found strawberries buy one get one free and they were gorgeous. I bought 4 packs, containers, plastic boxes of death, Whatever. Oh what to do with big, beautiful dark red strawberries?

 You sort them out, Get them arranged, And melt chocolate to the perfect temperature

                                           Then you dip them bitches.

 I am still dealing with the back pain of the decade so I took a pain pill about an hour ago. Unfortunatley, They make me more hyper than a squirrel on crack. The twatwaffles were "helping" me which means they ate the berries that were too small to dip and BUGGING THE CRAP OUT OF ME

 I tried to ignore their incessant rambling when I heard "Pull up your pants, I can almost see your dinkle" WTF IS A DINKLE?!

 And then, As I'm stirring the chocolate, My oldest starts "Bros-ing" me. For those of you unfamiliar with this charming action.....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTpiJ8z2OfM&feature=related.

 Fast forward to 4:11.

 Now imagine 4 children doing this to me at once. As I'm dipping strawberries in a slightly altered state. Needless to say, it's hard not to at least give a chuckle when this is going on. (I think those unicorns are gay by the way).

 Now fast forward to strawberries in the fridge setting and the kids wanting to watch a movie. (Mom gets to pick BWAHAHAHA) The oldest decides to go take a shower. Next thing I freakin see is her running through the dining room in her shorts and bra. If that wasn't enough, 2 minutes later she comes in wrapped in a towel to tell me one of the boy childs friends left his swimming trunks here and she took that time to flash me.

 Not one to let an opportunity pass him by, The boy child stands up and threatens to flash her back, Well then, My darling middle girl decides to call his bluff and pants him in the living room. (the whole time I'm in between fits of laughter and trying to tell them to act like they were born with at least half a brain)

 The dog decides while I am distracted and the twatwaffles are in hysterical fits while the boy tries to pull his pants back up because his dinkle is blowin in the wind, to grab his shorts and pull him to the ground.

 Here I am in another dilemma. Do I stop laughing uncontrollably at my son on the floor fighting the dog for his shorts and dignity or do I stop the dog before she had dinkle for dinner?

 As we sit now enjoying the fruits *heh* of my labor and wiping melty chocolate off my keyboard, We are watching "The Exorcist". Thankfully my insurance plan covers therapy.