Don’t Call the Cops


Don’t tell Child Protective Services, but there are syringes in my living room. Just laying there on the carpet. Next to Hungry Hungry Hippos and the princess keyboard. It’s such bad parenting. Or at least it would be if they were real. In fact, they are toy pain-inflictors that belong to my innocent child. She often needs to check Daddy’s back, or monitor my headaches or torment a doll with a full check-up, which routinely ends with Sally saying “Oh, this is not good” and the diagnosis of a horrid fatal disease that will include lots of vomiting. The treatment? Shots. Always shots.

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3 responses to “Don’t Call the Cops

  1. Our kids love the fake ones as well.

  2. lol.. Your kids wants to be a doctor or a nurse someday. 🙂

  3. LOL love the visual

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