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Sam got to tour a radio station recently. He was briefly on air, too. When we were dropping him off, the rest of the kids asked where Sam was going. I reminded them he got to go to a radio station. There was a moment of silence. Tommy asked, “Uh…what’s a radio station?” Swimsuits are for sissies.
We took the kids to the Westminster Promenade fountains after church and set them free. The only rule? Take off your shoes.
The fountains erupt in cascades of bitterly cold chlorinated water.
We had a few ouchies—mostly surprise face-geysers and scraped knees.
They ran around until the typical June afternoon storm clouds tumbled in from the west.
Ryley was so wet, he used his socks to dry his face. That is the definition of desperation.
Swimsuits may be for sissies, but towels are for the wise. We had no towels. Did I mention the water was cold?
Have you ever been part of one of those lovely drive-by remarks mothers launch in public? They seem innocent enough to a casual bystander, but it’s really a passive-aggressive dig and you know it in your gut. I was recently on the receiving end of a small dig. Here’s an example for the uninitiated: One mom says to her toddler in earshot of another mom, “Our family breaks out in hives and throws up if we eat white bread! It is too processed for us to handle, isn’t it? Mommy’s chiropractor says white bread ruins lives…” as the other mother, who didn’t solicit any advice or opinion, drops a bag of Wonderbread into her grocery cart. That sort of thing. Okay, maybe I read too much into these dumb little exchanges, but I am savvy enough to know when I am being scolded with a smile. Most of the time I don’t care, but I did the other day… Please go read about it at 5 Minutes for Parenting. |
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