The day your child says she hates you, and every child will go through the phase, it kicks like a foot in the stomach.

I wash my hands, wonder how an awful day could turn even worse. It seems like at some point you'd just run out of awful.

Babies like fat. Like to bury they face up in you armpit and go to sleep. They like big fat legs too. That I know.

Got to be the worst place in the world, inside a oven. You in here, you either cleaning or you getting cooked.

I intend to stay on her like hair on soap.

When you little, you only get asked two questions, what’s your name and how old you is, so you better get em right.

Who knew paper and ink could be so vicious