The guilt that keeps on giving

Today is Middle Little Bro's birthday. I took him and Littlest Little Bro out for breakfast this morning. Birthday Boy started complaining about having to pick up my mother from work (she left her car home so that we could drive out for breakfast instead of having to take public transportation, which I thought was an exceptionally nice gesture), because it's Sunday and football's on. I looked him in the eyes and said, "You know, 22 years ago to this day Mom pushed you out of her vagina. You were very big [for the record, he was 11 lbs, 11 oz, and 21 inches], and her vagina was very little. The least you can do is pick her up from work and take her to Costco so she can make a meal for you on your birthday." The *look* of horror on his face...I wish I'd had a camera on hand. He stopped complaining after that. I do so love being evil.

Last call for holiday cards. And I'm not going to procrastinate. More than usual.