The kids are tired, the air is cold, and we’re way too far away from our starting point.
Let’s talk about the grass and the price of chicken and whether I saw the game yesterday. Or not. I’m good either way.
I guess the house ate them.
I don’t like that Justin Bieber.
My pockets overflow with Hershey wrappers. They tumble out along the floor like product placement in a Hansel and Gretel movie.
They know to never listen if I ask them to smell their food or accept a Hurtz Donut.
He wasn’t doing it for us. He was doing it for himself.
Slime-making is basically when you spend $30 on supplies to make a handful of sticky goo that you could buy for 50 cents in the vending machines as you leave the supermarket.
I knew she had her hooks deep into this snow day and wanted nothing more than to jump into the yard like a drunk elf on a trampoline.
Some of my lowest points from the past few years are softened by their links to some great memories with my children.