Visiting a farm.
Little Miss Thing, age 4: “Why are these chickens following us around?”
Me: “Maybe they think we’re going to feed them.”
LMT: “What? Can’t they tell we’re not farmers?”
Visiting a farm.
Little Miss Thing, age 4: “Why are these chickens following us around?”
Me: “Maybe they think we’re going to feed them.”
LMT: “What? Can’t they tell we’re not farmers?”
Little Miss Thing, age 4, does a backward roll in her princess dress.
Me: “You know, you probably shouldn’t let people see your panties.”
LMT: “It’s OK. They’re fresh.”
That’s a new one. Twin toddler boys in the booth next to me are running around, ignoring their parents’ pleas to sit and behave. Then Dad says, “Sit in your seats or I’ll have that big guy get you.”
I look over at four tiny eyes staring at me.
For the record, they’ve been sitting politely for about 15 minutes at this point.
Too bad it would never work on my kids.