That exclamation point's completely gratuitous and basically a big fat lie, by the way, because Mama ain't in an exclamation point kinda place right now. But a punctuation mark hasn't been invented yet that conveys the emotion a person feels when she's 39 weeks and 3 days pregnant, has been up all night with a sick child (thankfully it's just a cold and really, as far as bodily fluids go, nose gunk doesn't squick me out too badly), and is having continual Braxton Hicks contractions that make bein' squeezed by a 60-foot anaconda sound like a friendly hug.
In terms of appropriate punctuation in these circumstances, I was thinkin' #(pound), because I'm thinkin' I'd like to POUND someone or something right about now. Or maybe %(per cent) because I'm about 99 per cent sure I'm gonna lose it any minute. What do you think?
Seriously. Keep back, y'all#%
Oh, the cheerful-and-upbeatness, they're a'flowin' round these parts, people. But if we survive this one last day, this one final push toward the finish line, then Nana will be here tomorrow and DAWG, I AM CRAWLING UNDER MY BED FOR SURE. Only I don't think I'd fit. Maybe a dark corner of the closet?
I did write something decentish over the weekend though. Well, decent by my current standards, anyway. Are any of y'all shy, or do you have shy kids? You might get sump'm out of this.
Have a great day, people. Or else#