i’m just sitting here dying of laughter thinking about McGonagall looking over Harry in first year like yeah the kid gets into some dangerous shenanigans but it always seems to be for a greater purpose and his heart’s in the right place and he’s so sweet and quiet usually, clearly he takes after his mother Lily thank goodness this is good this boy is good
and then dead ass one year later kid shows up to school crashing into a tree with his bestie in a flying car instead of just owling the damn school that they’d missed the train and she’s just like DING DONG I WAS WRONG
The other day I answered the door to my postman. I was signing for stuff, like you do, when my kid came downstairs with only his underwear and a t-shirt on.
Now, the postman couldn’t see him from the front door, and I scribbled my signature and said, to my son, “You need to put some trousers on.”
My postman, very slowly, looked down at his trouser-clad legs with a mixture of confusion and horror, and then looked back up at me.
When I explained I was talking to my little boy out of his line of sight, he gave a very solemn nod and said: “I thought I’d put trousers on this morning, but suddenly when you said that, I really wasn’t sure.”
Years after this, I still have the same postman. He still always wears trousers, but every time I answer the door, I’m pretty sure we both remember this incident.
The way that I cope with things is to get them out in the open, because when I’ve been in my worst states with being anxious or depressed, the worst thing is how alone I feel and how in my head I feel, and the more I kind of vomit it out to the world, it’s sort of like letting the air out of a balloon. We are going to have these dark weird thoughts and so why not just be open about them and realize that you’re not alone?
so apparently when my sister and i were little we took golfing classes and we got kicked out after a week. the reason being that the old white male instructor kept calling my 4 year old sister Maria “Mary” after she told him several times that her name is pronounced Maria. anyway, at one point, he tells her “well, that doesn’t matter anymore. you’re in America now.” and that distressed my sister so much that she hit him with her golf club.
that’s not what did the damage, though. what fucked that old dude up is that i saw my sister hit him from where i was standing and i ran over and started beating him with MY golf club. my mom says that i didn’t know what the hell was happening, but i squared up.
