I am watching The Princess trying to fill out the forms for her college yearbook. We (I) threw out the original order form by mistake. We (I) had to go on line and find the customer service number and request a new one. Now it is due and I made her sit down and put it all together. She can't figure out how to do the sales tax (21 y.o. psych major and sales clerk at Banana Republic). She seals the envelope and forgets to put the check in. She takes extra envelope, then forgets to put the proofs in.
She is punishing me for losing the original order form.
Mystery Man went back to school today. Called to tell me that he's on his way out to buy cleaning supplies for his frat room which is overrun with mouse poop. Seemed he didn't want to set traps and come back to 4-week old dead mice, so they had a party. Isn't a good thing we spend $3600 a semester for him to live in the frat house instead of the nice clean dorms? Visions of disease and Hanta Virus accompany my dreams. But after some of the "hijinks" that MM has performed in the past week, I am not all that upset.
The Teen chimes in with the fact that we (I) missed the deadline to put a congratulatory ad in her middle school yearbook. In my defense, Mr. Pomegranate gave it to me the night before it was due when I would have had to find a) baby photo of her; 2) come up with artwork, and 3) witty saying. While I was at court. I meant to call and get an extension, but there was no number on the order form, just an address.
Actually, it is a tradition for none of the Pomegranate children to get congratulatory ads in their yearbooks. Usually cause they never tell us. But this time they did.
I promised to make a beautiful ad for her that we will paste into the front cover, with a 100 copies to give all her friends.
She is not amused.
Now Mr. Pomegranate is going on as fathers are wont about money and comparing the children to
blood-sucking parasites needy puppies who never get enough attention.
Happiness does not reign supreme in the Pomegranate household tonight.
But there is a can of chocolate frosting in the pantry that only I know about....