This kid is done with today

So, Fakebook. We all do it. Today, I just can’t. Saturday is Tommy’s birthday party (deliberately very small this year because, ugh. SO sick of parties.) and I need to at least do bare-minimum prepping. Hang the decor today so tomorrow I don’t have to think about it. 
 Figure out where I’m buying pre-made sandwiches Saturday morning so I can check that off my list.

But the field across the street is spreading manure for easily the 10th time since November and my entire house smells like cow shit. I’m on my period and my back hurts and I did 73 effing burpees at the gym two days in a row in kickboxing (whoops) so my butt/thighs hurt too and my attention span is that of a gnat. 

Andplusalso:

He doesn’t want Dunkin Donuts. No wait, he does. Aunt Bridget! No, she’s the worst because Zach isn’t there. But Aunt Bridget! Zach! Wait, no Zach. So no Aunt Bridget! She’s the worst! Where’s the donuts we didn’t go get?! Don’t go pee! Hold me! Don’t pick me up!

*spits on the floor*

*puts salami on his head*

Lloyd aka Green Ninja is too quiet. Garmadon is too loud. The vacuum (not running in that moment) is too loud. The dog is snoring. The dog isn’t cuddling.

AND THEN

>>I go upstairs to get ibuprofen, he follows to unroll toilet paper.

Basically this kid is for sale. And by sale, I mean I will pay you to take him.