Do you have Heather’s glove?

That’s a question I didn’t expect to hear.  Heather has a ball glove?  Where was it when she was out in the field with the kids and the ball came down, beaning her on the head?  It was a hard hit too!  I heard the resounding echo of impact from the stands.

Today, after Tesla’s practice, I just wanted 30 minutes to hang out with her.  Nope.  John had texted the reason i couldn’t have her is “You’re watch never works.”  Tesla asked me to ask her dad if she could go with me.  I told her I already had twice, but she was insistent.  I asked and he said, “no, dinner is waiting for us on the table.”

Then he asked if I had Heather’s glove.  I said no and gave him a weird look.  He said, “well her glove disappeared and I’m just asking.”

He THOUGHT I took his girlfriend’s ball glove!  I replied, “Do you want to look at it?” and held my glove out to him.

He said, “No, if you say it’s not hers, I believe you.”  (Now there is a fucking first.  He believes something I say?!)

I replied, still holding out my glove. “You can check it for her name.  I know she likes to write names on things…”

I couldn’t help myself.  All those people standing around looking at me like I had possibly stolen my husband’s, girlfriend’s ball glove.  Right after he told me I couldn’t have 30 minutes with Tesla after practice.  WHATEVER!

Also, tell your wacky, grammatically-challenged girlfriend to stop brushing my child’s teeth.

~P.

Comments

  1. Give up on blogging. You are a dumbfuck.

Go ahead...take a swing. I'll duck and listen.

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