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My Dad Stole My Princesses

During his lunch hour, my husband takes my daughter to get her haircut so I could take E to an appointment. Being the paranoid person that I am, I arrive prepared.

Me: Here’s her change of clothing in case she has an accident and she didn’t eat much lunch so here are all the leftovers and here’s your lunch and she needs her bangs cut and here’s her purse of princesses and we’ll see you soon.

The hour goes smoothly up through and including the kid exchange. Until our way home, my daughter asks: Where are my princesses?

Are you referring to the very same princesses that you sleep, bath and eat dinner with EVERY SINGLE DAY? Your collection that grows stronger each week fighting off bad guys between hugs and “we love each other so much”?

Me: Dada didn’t drop you off with your purse of princess?

My daughter: I don’t know. Where are they?

I realize that Scott handed me nothing but N. No bags, no food and NO PRINCESSES

Me {because I’m so kind and awesome and my thoughts are full of cursing}: I think they’re still with Dada. This was our first week doing this so Dada is still learning.


My daughter gasps: He stole my princesses! I’m going to tell him: You fool! I’m making a mean face at you.

And so she did…

(If you can’t see the video, click here.)

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