Sometimes I’ll put my 5 year old son in an arm bar just to let him know who’s boss. And then he will get out of it, run to his mother, and let me know who the REAL boss is. Cruel you say? I don’t think so. I just consider it payback for all the sleepless nights he caused me when he was testing the limits of my sleep deprived brain for the first year and a half of his life.

On a completely related note, my pancreas hates me. It decided that the production of insulin wasn’t important anymore, so the doctors told me I was a type 1 diabetic. I thought this was cool, I’ve never been number 1 in much else.

You should probably stick around and hit the follow button, or not, no pressure.


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