Re-blogging this post my wife sent me this morning, if for no other reason than this line here:
“Similarly, when I step on a LEGO while rushing to get my 1-year-old a bottle at 3 AM, I know the only way to feel better is a hearty F-bomb repeatedly shout-whispered into the darkness of night. Spoken morphine. No other word will suffice.”
The struggle is real folks!