The fainting goat.
Have you ever seen fainting goats?
We have one.
Anytime you scare The Goldfish, he yells out real loudly and falls over. And then Hank and I hold our sides from laughing so hard and cross one leg over the other so we don’t pee.
Oh.
Well, I do that last part, but not Hank.
Ohmaword. It’s gonna send him into therapy. But like I’ve said before, we’ve already started a savings account for that.
He does that fainting goat thing when he plays sports, too. I think it’s just his style that he busts out in the middle of dribbling.
Hey man. Everybody’s got their own thing, I guess.
It could be worse. He could be the kid (ha. goat reference.) who steals your stuff when you’re not looking.
But I wouldn’t have one of those.
Hmmm. The Rev shows zilcho remorse-o.
Goat again.
And escapee. He noticed the park.
And then the slide.
And then…the cup.
I have been waiting, patiently, for some kid (ha. goat r… oh never mind.) to projectile vomit after ejecting out of this thing.
But the only thing that keeps happening is their eyes look like old typewriters when they come out of it. They’re all shifty and non-focusy. Except for that one time when a dad spun his daughter insanely fast and then completely forgot and pulled her out of the cup and set her down right in front of it and you know what? She launched forward like she was shot out of a cannon and nailed herself right between the eyes.
Oh. My. WORD. That was some super funny comedy. I waited until I knew she was ok before I turned around and did the crossing-the-leg-over thing so I wouldn’t pee. Especially because I knew the dad. Whewie. Made it even funnier.
I am a horrible mother.
Now pardon me. I’m off to scare The Goldfish…
