My son’s shoes are broken. There are rocks in them.

The sippy cups? Broken…the lids are off and they are empty.

His hot chocolate (“chocky”)? Broken…it is too hot.

His sister? Broken…she dared to take Puss in Boots out of the DVD player and replace it with <gasp!> Cinderella.

No, I am not staying up late smoking crack, and there is no Red Bull in my coffee.

I am referring to my son’s newest (and new favorite) word, “broken.” Anything and everything that is not in its usual state of being is now “broken.”

Pudding on a shirt, a recliner with the footrest extended, a TV that changes channels (according to DVR presets), me when I’m on the phone and ignoring him…all broken.

I actually like the concept.

My house is no longer messy or cluttered…it’s just broken!!

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Comments
  1. Mom says:

    Ahhhh! that’s a good one. Today I think my hair is broken!! come to think of it I have a lot of “broken” parts!!
    Very good post..

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