Pretty please?
Now, I want to know one thing. How the hell do they get that horse to fetch beer and answer the phone when I can barely get my kids to pick up their dirty underwear off the bathroom floor. Nevermind turn off a light. And I bet they never have to hear the whiny, "why do I have to go?" or "are we there yet"? He actually likes hitting the road.
Feeding him a burger though, now that's just wrong. He's obviously having some sort of identity crisis. The horse totally doesn't know it's a horse. Last time I checked, they don't eat cheeseburgers! Maybe they're giving Patches some ganja or something. Dude, like, the stallion's like got the munchies.
For those of you mothers that can barely manage to keep your kids together without constantly threatening Santa's wrath, you now have a backup plan.
Okay kids, shape up or I'm replacing you with Patches the horse! Now, now. Please, don't send me emails. Of course I'm not serious, but sometimes I wonder.
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Warning! Motherhood isn't for wimps. I'm plodding through motherhood one clogged toilet at a time and I'm still loving it. My life is full of beauty and craziness. I've decided I'm officially going insane, would you like to come along?
