A transplanted Floridian calls it as he sees it...

I promise to tell all! I'll be as rufff as I have to.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Report Cards are Stinky

I don't exactly know what those are, but I know I don't like them. Mommy's been at it since the sun came up (and on her birthday no less!) and we're not allowed to go bug her. I mean, love her, play with her, sit on her...you know.

So we've been trapped upstairs all day with Daddy. All he does is nap and type on his computer. This is so unfair.

What are report cards anyway? And how can they possibly be that important? And why does Mommy look so sad she could cry? And why didn't anybody tell me it was her birthday? I didn't get a chance to get her anything. And right now I just want to go jump on her and make her happy, but DADDY WON'T LET ME!

I just don't get it.

Rudy, the confused

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