Our animals don’t know the meaning of the words “personal space”, not even for each other.
These? Are the kind of photos you end up with when you tell your son he can take your digital camera (“If you break it? You’re grounded until you’re old enough to get a job and pay for a new one. A BETTER ONE.”) to a “Blacklight Golf” birthday party. Oh – and for the record? He was the ONLY boy at this party. And he was VERY proud of that.
And finally? Our picnic yesterday. I took a steak knife to cut up our apple with. When we were done eating? That was the only thing we couldn’t throw away, so I stuck it in my purse and told LilZ to PLEASE remind me to get that out of my purse later. Yeah. At the gas station later that night? On the road to take LilZ to his Dad’s for the weekend? I found it still in my purse. I’m that mean old lady who carries around HER OWN silverware in her purse now, aren’t I?