edit : the porridge.
A far more accurate account of the events of that fateful morning...
Baby Bear goes downstairs, sits in his small chair at the table, and looks into his small bowl which was empty.
"Who's been eating my porridge?" he squeaks.
Daddy Bear arrives at the big table and sits in his big chair.
He looks into his big bowl which was also empty.
"Who's been eating my porridge?!?" he roars.
Mummy Bear puts her head through the serving hatch from the
kitchen and yells,
"For God's sake, how many times do I have to go through this with you idiots?
It was Mummy Bear who got up first.
It was Mummy Bear who woke everyone in the house.
It was Mummy Bear who made the coffee.
It was Mummy Bear who unloaded the dishwasher from last night and put everything away.
It was Mummy Bear who went out in the cold early morning air to fetch the newspaper and croissants.
It was Mummy Bear who set the damn table.
It was Mummy Bear who put the bloody dog out, cleaned the
litter boxes, gave the dog her food and refilled her water.
And now that you've decided to drag your sorry
bear-asses downstairs and grace Mummy Bear with your grumpy presence listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this once
I HAVEN'T MADE THE EFFING PORRIDGE YET!!!"
Originally posted by adramforallSweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet.
edit : the porridge.
A far more accurate account of the events of that fateful morning...
Baby Bear goes downstairs, sits in his small chair at the table, and looks into his small bowl which was empty.
"Who's been eating my porridge?" he squeaks.
Daddy Bear arrives at the big table and sits in his big chair.
He looks into his big bowl which ...[text shortened]... ecause I'm only going to say this once
I HAVEN'T MADE THE EFFING PORRIDGE YET!!!"
For also the length of the thread title pushed all threads across to the middle of the screen.. looks much better.
😉
Originally posted by adramforallThat was sent around here on the International Women's Day. I am surprised to see it posted by a man. 🙂
edit : the porridge.
A far more accurate account of the events of that fateful morning...
Baby Bear goes downstairs, sits in his small chair at the table, and looks into his small bowl which was empty.
"Who's been eating my porridge?" he squeaks.
Daddy Bear arrives at the big table and sits in his big chair.
He looks into his big bowl which ...[text shortened]... ecause I'm only going to say this once
I HAVEN'T MADE THE EFFING PORRIDGE YET!!!"