Breaking point, and a true pet peeve.


Ketchup ketchup ketchup ketchup KETCHUP KETCHUP KETCHUP.

I heard you. Please stop asking.


Rage boils.

If you ask again, I am throwing the ketchup in the bin.



It slams into the bin.

It’s official, I am my mother. Of course, I am also the fucking sap who pulled it out of the bin five minutes later, washed it off, and gave this child ketchup. Because I’m apparently either fuelled by crazy rage or a total sap. Today, anyway.


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2 Responses to “Breaking point, and a true pet peeve.”

  1. Liv Says:

    I love this post. Obviously not loving the ‘how it feels at that precise moment’ thing. But the reality of it. We all go there sometimes.

  2. Jess Collingwood Says:

    The important thing is that you remedied the situation. We’re all a little like our mothers sometimes – much to everyone’s dismay.

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