Thursday evening:
We walk in the back door to see a bazillion ants traipsing through our kitchen. Max rushes in. And says:
"where the bloody hell did those bloody ants come from?"
Mark says to me: "where did Max get that from? And what are you going to do about it?
I say: "bloody hell. I'll probably do nuthin' "
*sigh*
1 comment:
*snort*
reminds me of the time Max said to me "it's not my friggin coat it's my jacket"
mmmmmm. bad mummy
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