Shorts

 Two days ago:

Charles informed me that he is Lord of the Spider Monkeys.  When asked why he went to the dark side, he just shrugged and said, "Sometimes you have to go rogue."  (Related:  I posted this on Facebook and it is very telling that no one questioned why my husband would be telling me that he was Lord of the Spider Monkeys.  Telling about me or my Facebook friends...well, I'll let you decide.)


This happened tonight:

 Charles:  I have some khaki shorts my dad is going to give me.

Me:  Oh, good.  You don't have any.

Charles:  Yes I do. You bought them for me last year. (Side note: Wife of the year I am not.)

Me:  I did? 

Charles:  Yeah, for when we went to Hilton Head.  I keep them in my underwear drawer.

Me:  Wait...Your UNDERWEAR drawer?

Charles:  Yeah, that is where I put my good clothes...wait, why are you laughing?

Me:  YOUR UNDERWEAR DRAWER???

Charles:  Yeah, it makes perfect sense to me.  That way they stay nice and I don't wear them to work in around the house.  Why are you still laughing?

Me:  Just...never mind.  Go shower.

Charles:  OK.

(Comes over to give me a kiss.  Tries to eat my Adam's apple afterwards in a misguided attempt at showing physical affection.)

Me:  WTF was that?  Don't ever do that again.  You were trying to rip my throat out like some kind of wolf.  Or...a spider monkey.

Charles:  Well, I am the Lord of the Spider Monkeys.

Me:  Go shower.

Charles:  You want another drink while I am up, since you are all wrapped up in your cocoon there?  (Mind you, it was close to 90* today and I was wrapped up in a blanket.  My feet were cold; sue me.)

Me:  It is my anti-spider monkey cocoon.

Charles:  It doesn't work.  I can still get you (said in a super creepy voice.)


I should probably start putting ads on this blog to pay for my children's therapy...