Wishes

I wish my child didn't spray toothpaste in such a wide splatter arc when she spits. If there was ever a CSI investigation in her bathroom, they'd think a serial killer worked that room.


I wish that I didn't find the audiobook for Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Last Straw quite so funny. What does that say about me when I laugh out loud at jokes that are based on Cheese Touch and boogers?

I wish that the rate of growth for the hair on my legs and underarms and the hair on my head could be exchanged. One set of locks is long and luxurious, the other small and stubby. It's just the wrong way round.


I wish that the Easter Candy wasn't still hanging around in June.


I wish that someone could switch the flavors for creme brulee and celery sticks. That would be great. Thanks!


I wish that my credit card bill wasn't so large, but if we can't do anything about that now, then I wish that the money had been spent on new clothes, pedicures, and massages, instead of on termite treatments and a tire rotation.


I know I have a lot of wishes about my kid, but there's a lot going on with that child. I wish, for example, that she didn't feel the need to save every scrap of paper, including clothes tags and math worksheets. I'm ready to call Hoarders.


While I'm on that topic, I also wish that she didn't have quite so many stuffed animals. One more birthday, and my husband and I will have to sleep in the garage.


I wish all claw machines would go back to the fiery pit of hell where they were spawned.


I wish Clive Owens lived next door, but that's another story.

I wish Hub didn't bring home his travel mug with a cold, wet teabag inside it every night. 


I also wish he put all dirty socks in the hamper. There is one on the floor of the closet right now, guaranteed. ONE sock means that its mate made it into the big time; couldn't the effort be extended?


I'm certain that you have much better wishes than I have. Please feel free to leave a few in the comments section.