Friday, May 16, 2008

I don't want you in the tree

Oh, the three year old that says "Mom, I want you to put me up in that big tree" can one deny the sweet, sticky three year old, with a ring-pop on her finger, who is very graceful and would most certainly not fall out of the tree?

Just the ring pop on her finger makes me not want to put her in the tree.

In my last rambling, I was (again) complaining about my adventures in babysitting, ahem, the supervising of ones employees. Isn't it amazing what the difference a few days can make?

Can't really speak of it in-depth quite yet as everything is not completely set in stone....but let's just say that if those crazed employees think that *I* am a bitch....well, they are about to be wickedly shocked, unbeknownst to them.


ahem. I will not gloat. I will not laugh. I will not sneer. I will not be ultra-excited for my new, enclosed cubicle.

Not yet.

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