Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Robble Robbleson

I am an impulsive person. I get really "stupid" a.k.a. fun ideas, and with very little thought, I do them. Well beginning of January I was reading with Thomas (one of the little boys I nanny) and I look up at his dresser and what do I see? 
A goldfish.
Suddenly I have a strong urge to have one. But not just any urge, I mean, I HAVE TO HAVE ONE. Stupid right? Immediately I text Nicole. Now here is the problem with that, Nicole is just as impulsive as I am. Now there are a few things I know, but none better than this...
Nicole+ Lindsey = stupid decisions
I think the problem with us being friends is that we are so similar in that neither one of us has rational thought of any sort. The slightest thing can trigger an idea, and neither one of us stops the other. Instead we egg each other on and the next thing you know we are flinging ourselves out of an airplane. But seriously...we did that once.

My mom keeps telling me that if Nicole and I keep hanging out we are both going to end up dead.
I'll take my chances.
Anyways, I text Nicole and then next thing you know we are at Petsmart. Everything gets a bit foggy from there all I know is that suddenly I am at Walmart buying a giant tubberware to put our new pet guinea pig in. That we almost immediately named Robble.

In this fog it never crossed my mind that Nicole and I are forbidden from having pets in our house. Fast forward to about a week ago. Mom comes to visit. Big trouble. Luckily I stashed Robble in my roomate Jalises bathroom sink for the short time my mom was over. Although I do enjoy the rush that I get from close calls, I have learned that you just don't mess with momma which led me to "ksl"ing the shiz out of Robble.

He is the cutest thing I have ever laid eyes on (and I am not just saying that because I am his mom) but Robble must go. Robble moves out on Saturday and he will be missed, but the time comes when your little bird has to fly out of the nest. I am going to miss my little boy.

P.S. My mom still doesn't know about this little incident. No worries I plan on telling her in about 30 years when we can all laugh about it mostly because she will be too old to get out of her wheelchair and beat the crap out of me.