I hate going to the store. HATE. IT. But add four boys to the mix, and I really just want to commit Harry Caray. All the grabbing and constant getting in other people's way, and then the, "Can we have this? Can we have that?" OH. Em. GEEEEEE!!!!
I know I've said I'll never take all four of them to the store ever again, but I really had no choice today. And I truly thought that they would heed my "mideval" warning. But apparently *cussing* not. Words that I say go in one ear and out the other.
AND THEN. There's dinner. I made Buffalo Chicken in the crock pot. I even used the "mild" sauce.
Boys: It's spicy. It's too hot.
Me: Man up.
Eric: What's that spicy I taste?
Me: American.
Bruce: *Getting all scientific talking about capsaicin*
Me: It's called being Texan. Eat it.
Moral of the story, suck it up. And that includes me.
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