What’s in a name? That which we call a rose leaves a nasty stain on corduroy. A good bleach. O happy dagger!
Et tu, Brute? Your socks are on the bathroom floor.
Regarding that I forgot to use an enzymatic prewash on that chocolate ice cream on your shirt, my words fly up, but my thoughts remain below.
Put what’s dirty in the hamper. Nothing can come of nothing.
Tomorrow (the whites) and tomorrow (the darks), and tomorrow (ad nauseum).
What am I that I am the only person that takes care of him? Out damned Spot!
Double, double toil and trouble, making lasagna from scratch.
Don’t touch the stove, honey! Fire burn and cauldron bubble!
Friends, Romans, countrymen, stop jumping off the couch and lend me your ears; it is time for dinner.
That her veggie and her hot dog are touching the young lady doth protest too much.
Didn’t Shakespeare say, “The worst is not, So long as we can say, ‘This is the worst broccoli spinach casserole ever.’”
Tonight Mommy and Daddy are going to assay their plot.
Not o’er stepping the bounds of modesty, we first snuggle on the couch watching something from Netflix.
Tempt not a desperate man with the old pink bathrobe falling accidentally open.
Is whispering nothing? The kids are still awake!
That is the short and the long of it… so, do you want to watch the rest of the movie?
What she says it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Mooooom! I am more sinned against, than sinning!
Our salad days, when we were green in judgment and before we had kids.
No way. No way! To mourn a mischief that is past and gone is the next way to draw new mischief on. We just can’t afford a new car.
Our 401k? ’Tis neither here nor there.
I have not slept one wink.