At 3pm this afternoon my home will be getting visited by my four-year old’s soon to be kindergarten teacher.
The house looks as if the interior was devastated by the world most localized and driest tsunami.
I cleaned the house twice yesterday.
I obviously must clean it again today but at what time do I start cleaning as to finish it in time for the teacher’s visit but not give the children enough time to destroy it again?
And just imagine, at one time I used to contemplate philosophy, science, religion and art…
“Daddy, what is this movie called?”
“This is Sponge Bob. You know that.”
“No. The movie we in.”
“We’re in. And we’re not in a movie. This is real life. Not A Movie.”
“Yes it is.”
“No it’s not.”
“N… I won’t be pulled into your trap. Real life isn’t a movie. It doesn’t have a name. We just live. Got it?”
“You wrong. Real life is a movie. And the movie has a name.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s that name mister smartypants?”
“Love. Our movie called Love and it the longest movie ever.”
“Where do you come up this shi… stuff?”
“I just know it true.”