It’s Tax Season

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It’s tax season. About three years ago we decided to use a CPA for our taxes. Probably one of the best decisions we have made. First, our refunds have increased drastically…and I gotta say I like having extra money. I’m not afraid to admit it. (not that we’re rolling in it…but we are comfortable and that makes me happy). Second, I suck at even balancing a check book. So, trying to figure out all those deductions, losses, gains, fill out form 109EZQJ if you bought an elephant in the last year stuff makes me want to throw cats. So I double heart being able to collect anything that says “important tax document enclosed” and then shove the pile at someone else and say, “Go nuts.” The third reason involves this year’s tax appointment. If you really want to make taxes interesting…bring a five year old, three year old, and a one year old to your tax appointment. Armed with a bag of toys we enter Taxpert’s office where the kids promptly ignore every toy we brought and start pillaging the room. We tag team herding King Toot away from stacks of important looking papers and files, various plant life, and all the awesome (and breakable) knick knacks scattered around the room. Sir Smiley would sign stuff…then leap up and relieve me as I signed stuff. We survived the appointment and nothing had been broken. Yay us! Sir Smiley is on defense with King Toot while I am holding Urpling who was suddenly becoming very clingy. Taxpert is now revving up for the grand reveal…how much we’re getting back. The big moment approaches, he sums up all our gains and losses (which I slowly tune out and think about how glad I am this is almost over and maybe I should reward myself with a little chocolate. I’ll be honest, I didn’t hear much about what he was saying at this point…as I said before…I suck at money stuff). I am snapped out of my reverie by two things…Taxpert saying, “So this brings us to the good news…” while simultaneously Urpling starting to cry. I look down and she’s gulping rapidly and the horror sets in. “Are you going to puke?!” I exclaim in horror. Immediately several things happen. Sir Smiley and Taxpert cease all conversation and stare at Urpling and I as I tilt her back and cup my hand under her chin. The partially digested orange juice from this morning begins to flow from her mouth as Sir Smiley races to the garbage can. But here is where the third awesome thing about our CPA comes in. He reacts immediately and runs to get us some paper towels and helps to clean up the mess as we slowly hold her over the garbage can. She pukes so strongly it even comes out her nose. The OJ vomit is now all over her shirt, my shirt, my hands and arms, her hair. It was mortifying. Needless to say, by the time we cleaned it all up…it had taken the wind out of poor Taxpert’s sails as he tells us about the sizable refund we will be getting this year. It was definitely good news. So long story short…our CPA rocks, but even with his awesomeness, taxes still makes people puke.

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