try to catch the deluge in a paper cup

last night i spent the evening babysitting max and jaycie. i was consummate bad babysitter. jaycie kept falling back on one of the chairs, over and over and over and over (and over) again. it was driving me batty, as i was trying to read the very latest ikea catalog. finally i had a enough.

“stop doing that.”
“why?”
“because you might get brain damage.” of course i couldn’t say, “it’s bothering the fuck out of me.”

the minute the words were out of my mouth she grabbed her head and started to cry?

“what’s that?”
“it’s when you’re brain gets hurt.”
“idon’twantbraindamage, idon’twantbraindamage,” she said crying hysterically.

i felt kind of bad, even though it was funnier than hell. i told sister #2 i’d pay for any therapy she needs regarding a brain damage phobia.

ps.
sixpence none the richer’s cover of crowded house’s “don’t dream it’s over” kind of annoys me.

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