This morning on the way out the door to preschool, I was doing my best not to spill coffee or chocolate milk or peanut butter on Liam's school lottery form while trying to help him with his coat and his school bag in an "I'm not helping, you're doing it all by yourself" sort of way while guiding him out the door with my leg (not kicking...guiding), when all of a sudden I found myself singing a Ludacris song to my child.
Move kid! Get out the way!Get out the way kid, get out the way.
Yes, I said "kid" instead of "bitch" which was nice. But Ludacris before 9 am? Ludicrous!
I had never even heard this song before I went to a bachelorette party a few months ago. Not that there's really a point to me sharing that bit of information with you. Other than it gives me a reason to show you this photo of me from the party:
Yes I'm modeling in front of a fan at an 18 and up dance club. What? I I don't get out much.
As for my inappropriate rapping this morning, all I can say is I've been tired for three and a half months and cannot be held responsible for my actions.
And you're welcome for getting that song stuck in your head for the rest of the day.