sometimes you wonder…

why lick a classic car? does it taste better than a regular car?

not that my children aren’t geniuses, or yours either for that matter. Of course they have to be the most brilliant children ever to light up the earth with their sunshiny faces. But…

why do they, pretty much as a species, think it is fun to take handfuls of playground gravel and toss it up in the air so that it rains down on their precious, brilliant little heads?

why do they systematically break every NEW crayon in the ONLY new box of crayons that exists in this house in half? I actually know the answer to this one: because now we have twice as many crayons Mom!

why does an 8-year-old boy who doesn’t own a cat, or go on unsuccessful dates think that Garfield is hilarious?

why if I tell Middle that something is hot, he will secretly have to touch it himself and then pout because he hurt his finger. There are some bits of wisdom I can impart to you Middle, my love.

why do they refuse to go to preschool because they hate it and then refuse to leave because they love it? When do the necessary memory synapses fire to remember from the last time they went to school that, “Oh yeah, this was actually fun.”

 Why do their beautiful little faces light up when I come to pick them up at said preschool, when I was the one that abandoned them there in the first place. Not sure the answer is as important as the fact itself.


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now what’s that now?

what’s done is done


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