I had been expecting it for a while. We were coasting on fumes for about a week--barely getting enough sleep and yet still waking around 5am. The kids were all running a low-grade fever, fussing and arguing over little things, mommy's foot still hadn't healed, and we had only a few dollars in our bank account after a crazy month of fix-its and unexpecteds. Actually, make that negative $1.43 in the bank (but who's counting, right?). I was certain one of us would blow our tops over something sooner or later.
So...I'm sitting in the dining room, sipping my hot tea and playing with the baby. Lee was in the kitchen, finishing up supper, when I heard his announcement from the kitchen (where the children were running around his feet, begging for their juice cups).
"Okay, that's the LAST straw!"
Uh oh, not the proverbial last straw, I thought. YIKES!
Carefully and quietly I tip-toed into the kitchen, hoping my entrance wouldn't upset the balance of our teetering universe. Yet I just had to see what disaster had occurred to arouse such a "last straw" announcement (and I figured I'd need to help sweep up the broken pieces of whatever had been destroyed in my absence).
Boy was I relieved to discover his words weren't some silly proverb or figure of speech. He was telling the truth...the WHOLE truth...while fixing their morning juice cups:
It really WAS the very last straw.
(...and he wasn't even trying to be funny...which made it all that much funnier, to me...the one who was now spewing hot chai tea from my nostrils)
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