While donning my disguise of a fun mom, I'm "supervising" a playdate with one of my son's friends and acting like I'm fine with the fact they're playing war and killing everyone in sight. I pretend not to cringe as I hear my three-year-old yelling, "Die!", and I look away from the melting ice cream bar on the kitchen table.
Meanwhile, back at the lair--I mean, my destroyed living room--my jewelry is slowing being perfected and cataloged while my evil cat purrs in satisfaction. (Okay, so I don't have a cat. I have that lovable dog that sheds like a maniac, but just go with it.)
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find me at the top secret Lenexa show and buy everything in my booth, thereby saving the world from apocalyptic devastation.
This message will self-destruct in 5 seconds--that is, if these boys have anything to do with it.
I freaking loved Inspector Gadget!
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