Mothering two rampaging sons has rendered me nearly indestructible--especially in the tender foot and tushy areas. I've stepped on, sat on, fell on, and pranced on so many little plastic toy pieces scattered about my floor that I could bill myself as the world's first LEGO cyborg mom. I'm sure that a routine physical would uncover enough tiny blocks hidden amongst my squishy, heiny-folds to erect an entire LEGO city--a city that's never quite complete because there's always another "new-and-improved" set you have to purchase. Oh how I do so love toys thats designed specifically to make you keep buying and buying more to add on to it.
Anyway, I'm not really sure why Papi wants to waste his time watching recycled 70's cheeseball-o-rama shows like The New Adventures of the Old Bionic Woman, when he has me, his own personal Bionicle Woman by his side.
My weapon of choice as a mighty Bionicle Woman? The high-speed hurling of an itty-bitty ,connectible-piece arsenal that strikes certain fear and dread in the hearts of thine enemy....thus engaging them to stoop over and scoop them all up off the floor which leads to extremely debilitating backaches. I'm a calculating foe, indeed.