My wife is so considerate. She’s always so polite and dainty like a Victorian lady twirling a parasol. Unless she happens to be wrestling a particularly stubborn pickle jar or battery compartment, then she’s more like a sailor-mouthed ex-con with anger management issues. But mostly it’s pinkies out and poots in private. Too cute.
Regarding the battery life pictured: I know it’s dumb, but can someone please tell me at what age I’ll be able to see the number 69 without chuckling to myself?
Previous “My Wife Just Said…”
Ahhhh, all of your kid’s firsts.
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