One tiny giggle kept these three alive for over a decade and counting.
It’s the parental curse of eternal-youth vision
Go ahead. Get your kids. I’ll wait.
We’re not incredibly smart. We’re moderately old.
Time moves on whether we like it or not.
The days of smoking in the mall, downing an Orange Julius, and watching Dr. Huxtable examine women in his basement have all come to an end.
I don’t even know how we escaped. I’m surprised we’re not still playing that game today.
I pictured her handing me paper stacks of glue and popsicle sticks until she was in her 50s.
Glitter, rainbows, and the pure, unadulterated chaos of a Scandinavian Death Metal mosh pit.