Apr 072010
Henry just came home from work with Wendy’s.
“Do you want this Frosty?” he asked.
“Uh, no,” I said snottily, because I often speak to him like I’m his sixteen-year-old daughter.
“I bought an extra one just so you wouldn’t scream YOU BOUGHT CHOOCH ONE AND NOT ME!” Henry mimicked.
He knows me so well, it’s sickening.
8 Responses to “The Frosty”
Say it don't spray it.
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He really bought it for Chris.
You know this comment made Henry do that “frown/eye-roll/upper-arm-rub” thing that he does when he’s wanting to come off annoyed but is secretly tickled that someone is paying attention to him.
Doesn’t he know you’ll find a reason to complain either way? Christ, get with the program Henry!
INORITE??
He’s always trying to be a step ahead.
I’ll have it
are you one of those people who dips their fries in it?
because I think that’s some bullshit
I have been known to be a dipper in my day, yes. I hang my head in shame.
I guess you will just have to change some of your ways to keep him off balance. Boys can never start to think they know us so well.
This is true, Laura. This is true.