The Paternity Test
by“FFS, she’s your daughter alright,” Tracey told me tonight in her most disappointed of voices.
“FFS, she’s your daughter alright,” Tracey told me tonight in her most disappointed of voices.
My kids are driving me nuts at the moment. I mean, how friggin’ hard is it to put your socks in the laundry basket when you take them off?!
Tracey walked into our laundry and stopped. “What are you doing?” she asked me. It wasn’t a brainteaser. I was putting a couple of loads of washing into our machines and had just scooped in some powder.
Tracey’s poor opinion of my shirt was further hinted at in her next comment.
“Holy crap shirt, Batman.”
Tracey hates the way I wash our clothes.
I don’t blame her. I hate it too.