Dear Witching Hour

Dear Witching Hour,

First, I just want to say that I hate you. I hate you with everything inside of me. My life would be fantastic if you would just go away leaving a wrinkle in time between 3-7PM.

I have a good kid. No child is perfect, but each afternoon without fail you transform the fruit of my loins from a baby bear cub into a snarling gremlin who wants to eat my face and fray my nerves.

I'm sick of this bullshit, Witching Hour.

How am I supposed to make dinner when my kid is possessed by what sounds a very whiny demon? What did you do to my kid's legs- you may have noticed that they no longer work correctly.

What do you want from me? If it's money, I'm willing to pay to make you leave. You need to move on. This relationship isn't working.

Do you know what it's like to go to a grocery store when you have descended on our lives? It's like trying to walk a rabid feral cat on a leash through a tuna factory. We literally cannot leave the house without a serious behavioral incident.

And oh yeah, your name is a lie. It should be "Witching Time Period." Hour my ass.

I blame you for my lack of weight loss success. The only way I can get through your storm is to eat handfuls of Honey Nut Cheerios and emergency chocolate until I can no longer feel.

You're like a category five hurricane. You leave a path of destruction in your wake: tears, time outs, crappy dinners that I couldn't concentrate on because I was too busy focusing on not losing my damn mind.

Witching Hour, you are a home wrecker.

If I ever see you in an alley, it's on.

-Me

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