My first day of work was a disastrous path, who knew preschoolers were capable of such wrath. My princess tiara slipped at the sound of a four-year-old’s scream; while he stood back watchin’; my teenage dream.
All cool and spectatin’, holdin’ up the wall; unphased and unmoved by her wailer’s bawl, as I floundered and struggled in obvious pain; no shelter he gave me from her terroristic reign.
I left for home a beat-down servant by the end of the day, for recovery and recon—preparation for the beastly dragons I shall slay. For now I’ll take refuge in aromatic bubbly waters, kicking it with Pink, America’s rock-n-roll daughter.
The night is young, and I’m good to go, my bestie at my side, we’re going old-school disco.
(I download one of my pics from the cupcake shop and post it beside my blog. Yumm-o!)