A Bad Place Full Of Bad Jerks

On Love

[Ed. Note: I was debating whether to publish this at all, but we need that Miley Cyrus picture moved as far down the page as possible. You're welcome?]

We have three children. Three wonderful, amazing children who I am thankful for every single day of my life. Really can't say that enough, love 'em. Love. 'Em. Love'emlove'emlove'emlove'emlove'em.

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That said, I took the requisite steps in my life to ensure we will not be having any more children, because children are hell-spawn, soul destroying, money-draining, time-sucking portals of misery. Also, they like shitty pop music.

Now then. My youngest child is three. We very rarely put her in a stroller, only if we know we'll be spending a lot of time walking around and a) don't want to carry her and b) need her to get the fucking lead out, sweetheart, we don't have all day. So it comes out only if we, let's say, go to the zoo. Or a theme park. Or the race track. Or OTB.

Nah, just kidding, I use fake handicap plates at the OTB.

With that in mind, this is an actual conversation that occurred last night:

Mrs. Echo: Do you know what an umbrella stroller is?

Ed. Note: We own two.

Mrs. Echo: Well I just saw one for sale on ebay. It's a pretty good one. Thought we should get it.

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Ed. Note: We already own two. One is pretty fancy. Not "I want to punch that mom right in her stupid face with her frickin' privilege" fancy, but still.

Mrs. Echo: Just, you know, it might come in handy.

Ed. Note: As discussed, we are weaning OUT of strollers in general.

Mrs. Echo: Here, I've got it up on my iPad, you want to come loo-

L'ilest Echo: [walks into living room]

L'ilest Echo: I have to go potty.

L'ilest Echo: [craps in pants]

Agonizing Conversation: [ends]

Love 'em.

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