He is so fired.
What you don't fire your family members? That's how we roll in the Scouty household.
I am late picking up the kids from swim practice?
I am fired. Yes, the first words uttered from their lips. I hang my head in shame.
They leave their breakfast dishes on the kitchen table rather than in their cozy dishwasher home? They are fired.
But this week? It will be CG hanging his head in shame. He's coming home unexpectedly early, with, I am sure, the expectation of welcoming arms and cheery kisses.
Instead, he will be in the dog house. Let me refer you to the evidence:
Yes, those are Paula Dean's luscious red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting and sprinkles. Yes, made with 1-1/2 cups oil, 1 pound cream cheese, 1-1/2 cups sugar, and 2 sticks of butter. Yes, they are heart attack on a plate if the grease at the bottom of the cup is any indication...and YES, there are three left.
When CG left on Tuesday, there were NINETEEN!! He made these damned cupcakes, loaded them in the empty fridge front and center, and then LEFT ME ALONE WITH THEM.
Yes, how dare he make me cupcakes and give me chocolate for Valentine's DAY. I have double the work-load and driving with the kids with him gone. No time to shop. Stressed. Emotional eating anyone??
I go to look for a snack and **BAM** those freaking cupcakes derail my best resolutions.
Talk about sabotage! Grrr.... Next time he better write me letters like President Bush writes to his wife. Yes, Bush because I'd rather be sobbing over letters decades from now than caring about cupcakes in my fatty liver and muffin top:
Don't feel too bad for him...I always rehire him in the morning.
Maybe I'll wait this time until I walk off the 50 bajillionity calories I stuffed in my mouth in the form of cuppy-cakes. Yep, at my treadmill desk as I type. Yep, I figure only 3 miles walked to burn off each cup-y-cake.
Gah!! I figure I'll be done in say 24 hours of walking.
I love you honey bunny, but CG you are so fired.