Narrating my life

I mistakenly informed my husband yesterday that I ocassionally narrate my motherly doings. I tell him this as he and I are straightening up our childrens room before bedtime as they are innocently bathing in the room next to us. Yes, we leave them alone in the bath tub on occassion. A good indication that something could be going wrong would be silence, which never happens in the bath tub. Anyway, this is how the rest of what could be considered a "conversation" took place:


KellY: Brett, close the window.
Brett: She kept handing out orders, without so much as a please or a thank you.

Confused...I looked up, but he had closed the window so I went on my mary way.

Kelly: Brett, will you put the laundry basket in the bedroom?
Brett: She didn't know, but I really didn't want to do that. Again, no please.
Kelly: What are you doing?
Brett: She was questioning me now, and that was never a good thing.
Kelly: Brett, you sound stupid.
Brett: Now she was making fun of my Frank Savagesque voice
Note: Yes, he said Frank Savage.

Kelly: You aren't Fred Savage.
Brett: But all I kept thinking was how I had said Frank.
Kelly: Oy, I'm getting the kids out of the tub. You can move on.
Brett: I finished folding the blankets and headed to the kitchen to clean off the counter.


I love my husband.
The End