Little Miss Thing, age 4: “Daddy, read this book to me.”
Me: “Oh, my. Well, you see… that is your mother’s copy of Where the Wild Things Are from when she was your age. Look here! There’s an inscription from grandma and…”
LMT: “Just read the book.”
Little Miss Thing, age 4: “Daddy, read this book to me.”
Me: “Oh, my. Well, you see… that is your mother’s copy of Where the Wild Things Are from when she was your age. Look here! There’s an inscription from grandma and…”
LMT: “Just read the book.”
I’ve been eating so much better lately.
At a picnic, I deserve to have a little tiny brownie, right?
See? Just one tiny bite… oh so good.
SO GOOD.
I forgot.
I forgot about brownies.
OH GOD… so soft and warm and gooey — OUT OF THE WAY GRANDMA THOSE ARE MINE!
“OK kids, stop singing Frozen songs and substituting ‘dingus’ for all the verbs.”
So that happened.
Oh, good.
Now they’re singing our new family anthem: “If you’re happy and you know it, poop your pants.”