They don't get us.
They don't get it.
They don't get that when my eye starts to twitch because the kids are letting the demons out for the evening, well, it's not funny.
It's not funny when my son pokes my daughter with his fork because she pinched him and then screamed in his face for no apparent reason and shattered every window in the kitchen.
It's not funny.
So when my husband looks at my twitching eye, smiles, and says, "You should blog about that," well, I sorta want to poke him with a fork and then pinch him.