The Stories of our Lives

I’m going to try to make this a weekly installment. (It probably won’t work.)

It’s nice when they get over that phase where they cry and cry,
and you don’t know the hell why.

E – “Are you humming the Pussy Cat Dolls?”
F *D’oh!*

I wish I had a house-elf.

Xavier would be happy on a peasant medieval menu of bread for a meal, every meal.

- “You changed her outfit again?”
- “Not by choice, this one. She pooped her way out of it.”

How depressing is it that I thought about enlisting someone to do my hobbies for me?

X – “Mommyyy?”
*Presents big gross half-crushed, half-wriggling spider.*
E – “Thanks Xav, that’s really nice.”