A woman's poem...

He didn't like the casserole
And he didn't like my cake,
He said my biscuits were too hard
Not like his mother used to make.
I didn't perk the coffee right
He didn't like the stew,
I didn't mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer
I was looking for a clue.
Then I turned around and
smacked the crap out of him...

Like his mother used to do.

tia travels's Avatar
Maybe that was what he was aiming for the whole time....to be smacked.