The End of Posts?

I've forgotten how hard it is to endlessly nag kids to capitalize and punctuate their sentences for eight hours on end.

My last kid of the day has this weird tendency to write faster when I sing (Er. I hum a little when I wait for my kids to finish their exercises). I thought at first he was doing it so I could check his work and consequently shut up. I asked him about it and he said that he just really writes faster when he hears someone sing. He whimpers a little bit when I burst into song. It's like he suffers because his hand can't keep up with his OCD.

For many months, my excursions to the bathroom had a hint of danger. There is a breathless thrill that comes with the risk of getting caught in the act. Every time I'd perch my behind on the toilet, my senses would magically sharpen. They would become attuned to the activity going on outside. The sound of approaching footsteps would further heighten my already acute perception. At this point, I would yell: "There's somebody in here!" Alas, all that is over. Our bathroom door now has a doorknob. My acquired skill is doomed to dormancy.

I currently divide my time between my Korean wards and my canine pooper. All he does is dole out globs of brownie surprise. I'm being pessimistic about how often I'll be able to put up new stuff on the blog since events in the real world are keeping me unnaturally busy. I'm thinking I could spread my bane on the Web by posting comments all over the place. And also so you guys know that even if my own posts have dwindled, I'm still reading your stuff.