Me: What’s that all over your shirt?
Aletheia: Blood. But it’s all mine.
The adults found it hilarious
[Playing hide and seek with Aletheia’s toys]
Aletheia: Daddy, I can’t find it.
Me: Well, you’ll just have to keep looking.
Aletheia [with head cocked to side and hands on hips]: Daddy, did you put the toy somewhere you’re not supposed to put it?
My inner monologue
Aletheia: Daddy, are you going to work tonight?
(Aletheia likes it when I work late because I usually sit at my desk which is located outside her bedroom. So now she is basically “you-should-be-writing” shaming me.)
Pesto!
Life, uh, finds a way
I had a dream last night that Jeff Goldblum was trying to seduce me. I would have been OK with that except at the last minute he took off his mask to reveal himself to be Jeff Bridges. I’m not OK with that.
Onions for days
Today, I am Peter Piper
As seen in the New York Times
Aletheia keeps referring to guacamole as “broccamole.” Millennials ruin everything.
Feed me, Seymour
Perks of where I work
