Why I hate Lego x 100

At the end of the day, I had enough. All the stuff went back into the box and the box had been confiscated. He'll see it when he is six years old.

That was after I counted to make sure all the pieces were there, went hunting under bed and under the sofa for the missing pieces, and broke my back fixing up a 6 to 8 years old helicopter for him.

Which he then proceed to crash the 'copter and smashed it on the floor.

I don't care if there are any missing pieces.

They'll go into the vaccum cleaner tomorrow if the lousy maid is careless.

She can't even iron the curtains properly. I had to do them. And hang them up. Because she also can't hang them up properly.

The son is an expert blackmiller. He loves to ask if you are happy. And there can only be one right answer. Otherwise he'll cry. And he'll ask it when he knows you're angry with him.

Well, right now I'm angry with him. And he knows I'm angry with him.

So he's playing quite quietly by himself. I guess he's okay as long as I am not playing with his sister.

Thank god for my mother who came down after she heard both of them crying loudly over the phone today. Although she's glued to the TV most of the time.