There were tears this morning.
Tears at the great injustices of living in this house.
Cal didn't get any cake. Mind you, this is something that occurred 2 days ago. But I think he saw the clean pan and realized it was gone for good. He didn't eat his dinner, so he didn't get any of the scrumptious chocolate yumminess I had made. At the time, he seemed OK with it.
You see, Cal doesn't eat dinner. He just doesn't find that particular meal to ever be to his liking. This morning, the tears were mixed with the heave sentance "but.... You.... don't.... make.... what... I... Liiiiiiiiiike....booohoohoohoo."
Please picture my face looking completely bored and a little irritated as I watch this scene.
Can you imagine a worse home to live in? I mean, seriously, someone call CPS.
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