Don’t Be So Dramatic

Kiefer says I have a problem, possibly a disease. He’s not sure how to classify it, but it appears to be a little of these:

  • Hearing
  • Memory
  • Interpretation
  • Exagerration.

For example, I’ll be sitting on Kiefer’s lap, and then this happens:

Kiefer: Stand up. I need to get something.

Thoughtsy: I can’t believe you just called me “fat.”

Kiefer: What? I did not!

Thoughtsy: You just said I was so fat that I was cutting off circulation, and I needed to get up, so you could call 911 before your legs were permanently damaged.

Sometimes, it’s more like this:

Kiefer: Get off my lap. I need to get up.

Thoughtsy: You hate me.

Kiefer: What? No!

Thoughtsy: You said I had to get up because you couldn’t stand to be near me one second longer. That I was sucking the life out of you by touching you. And now you’re moving to Canada to get away from me.

It appears that whatever disease I have, it’s contagious. Because the other day, this happened:

Thoughtsy: I’ll be right back.

Kiefer: You hate me.

Thoughtsy: What?

Kiefer: You just said my lap is totally uncomfortable to sit on, and you have to go get a pillow before your ass is permanently damaged.

Thoughtsy: Wait…What’s wrong with my ass? Did you just say my ass is fat?

Kiefer: What? No!

He almost had me. Almost.

Favorite Comment From the Last Post: “Woah! Woah! Why have I never tried these Pop-Tarts? My life is incomplete.”—Ginny

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About thoughtsappear

I eat lots of sugar. It's the only way to keep up with my new baby and to outrun zombies. View all posts by thoughtsappear

35 responses to “Don’t Be So Dramatic

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