The crunchy life

When I hear someone say they are crunchy, a lot of things go through my mind.

I have a lot of presumptions, and I would hazard a guess that you do as well.

But, I can just about guarantee the crunchy life to which I am referring has nothing to do with those.

I am talking about the crunchy, finger foods of tiny people.

Cheerios.

Veggie straws.

Cheetos.

Crackers.

Those type of crunchy things.

Not only are they crunchy when your kids are munching away, but also when you step on them.

*crunch*

No matter how much I sweep or run our robot vacuum. <– if you don’t have one, you’re missing out.

This is literally my life every single day.

And, my disdain for them grows with each step made on an unseen cheerio.

*crunch*

I pick up a blanket off the floor and small crunchy foods fly out and I can’t make it to the kitchen to grab a broom before stepping on a multitude of them.

*crunch crunch crunch*

They are literally the bane of my day.

Especially when its a particularly stressful day.

When I’m taking a rage walk through the house (you know what I mean) and I step on one.

Think about the beast from Beauty and the Beast.

That’s me.

Those moments when I’m recounting my day to Brent as he gets home from work and I step on a crunchy item.

*deep breathing*

Literally my life wrapped in one normal movement.

*crunch*

I live a literal crunchy life.