Children, all of us.

My husband must work with a bunch of twelve year olds. Or one twelve year old, at least. You see, he fired - oh sorry, "let go" - someone today. And after stomping around and throwing a fit like a child, this guy came back and surprised my husband with a punch in the jaw. And all I can say is, what a stupid move on that man's part. Don't you think?

(Oh, I forget that some of you do not know my husband. Well, let me tell you a little bit about him. He's a big guy. Very big. As in, he used to be a competitive power lifter. Very, very big. When he was training hard, he would bench press well over 500 hundred pounds. Even now that he's not training for competition anymore, he still benches over 400 pounds. He's built like a tank. Oh, and he used to be a bouncer at clubs during his pre-marriage days.)

So anyway, this man comes and lands a punch on my husband's jaw. And my husband picks him up over his head and puts him down on the floor. Then covers him while all the office ladies are a-twitter and someone yells, "Don't hurt him!" To which my husband replies, "If I wanted to hurt him, I wouldn't be holding him down on the floor, I would be wiping blood off of my hands!" (Or something like that. I may have dramatized for effect.) And after the police arrived, everyone calmed down, and then all the twelve year olds left the building.

And now my husband has a sore jaw and he has to go take my daughter to her Kindergarten assessment. Nothing like showing up at the Kindergarten classroom after leaving a brawl.

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My son is now well into his first day of First Grade. He decided he wanted my husband to walk him to his classroom this morning, so that's what my husband did. And he reported back that my son was thrilled to be there and knew right where his classroom was. He even managed to chat up some little girl on his way down the hall (my son did, not my husband.) He's going to be a lady-killer, that boy.

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As you may have noticed, I removed my name (again) from this site. I'm incognito. So SHHHH, don't tell anyone who I am. I try my hardest to not name names and say anything malicious about anyone on here, but I figured that it would be safer if I made it a little harder for just anyone to happen upon this site. Oh, I know, people can still find it. And with my big ol' face up there, it's not hard to know it's me writing this. But, you know, it makes me feel like I'm hidden. And it's all about how I feel, right?

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I must go now. I have lint in my mouth and I have to go scrape my tongue. You see, I had a mint in my pocket and when I found it in there (Surprise! Candy!) I popped it into my mouth. And it was covered in pocket lint. Yes, evidently, I am 8 years old.