"Get your feet off my painting right now." Said to the child lolling on the sofa, rubbing her feet on my dead grandmother's painting which is now mine. A sentimental family heirloom. Rubbing it. With her feet.
"Don't get jelly on the dog!" Said to the child quickly throwing together a sandwich with such wild & carefree abandon she was sending large globs of grape jelly flying around the kitchen. Guess who?
"Who the hell melted my skinny cows?!" Said to the household population at large. Okay, yelled. With derision. It could have been any one of them. The kids are jealous I have them in the first place, and Ken has also exhibited marked hostility towards my only diet dessert item because they cost $4. Now they are all misshapen and the texture is totally screwed up.
And still I carry on. Because I love.