The Glamorous Life Of The Modern Day Soccer Mom
The Glamorous Life Of The Modern Day Soccer Mom
Did you know there are 53 watermelons in that giant, super-sturdy cardboard bin at Costco? Did you know if your 5 year old aims carefully and hits the giant super-sturdy cardboard bin full of watermelons with the corner of the pretty-big, apparently-even-sturdier-than-the-cardboard-bin shopping cart, the giant, super-sturdy cardboard bin will magically split open?
Did you know when the bin splits open 48 of the 53 watermelons will make a run for it?
Do you do the daddy-ing?
Maybe you’re a father. Maybe you’re not.
Either way, the daddy-ing dads, stepdads, uncles, grandpas, brothers, cousins, neighbors, teachers, coaches, and many more do makes a huge difference for the better in the lives of the children they daddy.
Know that all of your efforts for the children in your life are appreciated and world changing, even if they aren’t acknowledged.
It’s that time of year again.
Time to shake and bake while our loved ones stride across the stage.
You want to be a graduation audience member? Let’s see if you’ve got the endurance, savvy, and possibly even stupidity necessary to make the grade.
Ahhh – the audience – that group of adoring fans that entertains delusions of homicide as the ceremony plods along.
Just ’cause we love ’em doesn’t mean they’re smart.
We had a dog named Douglas. We loved him all very much.
But, and I mean that in the nicest possible way, Douglas was an idiot.
Often when I’d look at Douglas I’d say to him, “It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”
He was pretty. He was a lab and saluki mix, with shiny black fur that was soft like a rabbit’s.
You know how sometimes you impress your family and friends with your skill and competence?
Yeah, me neither.
Last night a little moth flew straight into my face, landed on my nose, freaked out, and tried to fly away. But, he must have forgotten how he got there (or maybe he just had a poor sense of direction. Not judging here. Just reporting) (Although I am pretty sure he’s male,
They’re trying to drive me insane.
No, not my pack.
Well, them, too, but I’m talking about those knit, Ninja-skilled, foot festoon-ers.
Is there anything more futile and infuriating than trying to keep a supply of clean, paired up socks?
Oh. My. Gosh.
Why is that absolutely impossible to do?
Socks seem to disappear at our home right before our eyes.
