I had a really great Thanksgiving today.
You might not have guessed that would be my final opinion of the day if you had been around this morning. The Weirdo and I went out with my brother and sister last night. My sister lives in Philadelphia, which is a bit of a drive from Atlanta, so I don't get to see her very often. In addition to the usual Thanksgiving traditions we wanted to go out drinking while she was in town. So we started with dinner and some surprisingly good beer, and then it was coffee and drinks at a cafe. There was a nice moment at the cafe, when we were all sitting around the table laughing and talking way too loud. We were out in the city with people we love having a good time. It was exactly how I pictured "Happy Adult Life" when I was young. Took a great picture with my brother and sister outside the cafe.
Then it was off to the bars. I drank way too much, and at some point my brother started pole dancing. Ended the night at this odd little bar that we will almost assuredly return to with Bestie & the Firefighter. Can't really explain it, but the beer was cheap, the dance floor was full, and the music ranged from Sweet Caroline to Thriller.
It was a consciousness-in-spurts car ride back to my parent's house, where the Monkey was sound asleep and I quickly followed suit. Four hours later the Weirdo was awake, tired, and irritated at her husband's hangover. We got home and I went back to sleep. She later told me that while I slept she watched all the shows on the DVR that we normally watch together because she was mad at my uselessness. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I reminded her of the numerous times I have taken care of things without complaint when she drank herself into oblivion or caught some nasty cold. We pretty much dropped it, though in my head I silently crowned her the Double Standard Queen of Hypocrisyland.
Once I was back among the living we went to my parent's house for Dinner # 1. At the start of the feast my dad went around the table asking everyone what they were thankful for. The Weirdo said "Sober husbands" and fired the death look at me. No she didn't - but you believed it, didn't you? As my dad went around the table he, as a joke, asked the Monkey what he was thankful for. Maybe it was because my dad spoke to him, maybe it was because everyone at the table was looking at him, but immediately upon being asked the question the Monkey held up a piece of tomato and shouted DAAAH! Not even two years old and his comedic timing is perfect. What a kid!
After dinner the men tossed a football back and forth in the front yard while the women sat on the patio talking, sipping drinks, and yelling at us when the ball came too close. The Monkey was running all over the yard, and I had one of those mental pictures burned into my head for all eternity of the Monkey running across the yard smiling and shouting, the wind blowing his hair up and away from his face.
In the early evening we left my parent's house and went to Dinner # 2 at the Weirdo's parents' house. The feast there was great too, but was enhanced by the multitude of children. There was the Monkey of course, but also a two and a half year old, a one year old, and a week old infant. The Weirdo and I love kids. We get excited talking about the future and a crazy house full of kids running around. When our kids are older we want to have Cousin Camp at our house during the summer. Where the idea of roughly eight kids in your house terrifies most people, the Weirdo and I relish the thought of it.
At one point I stepped outside for a smoke. The kids were inside running and making messes, the adults were tending to the kids and talking and enjoying time together. I took a moment to really appreciate how much I loved the Weirdo's family. My family, I corrected myself. They are my family every bit as much as they are the Weirdo's. The thought occurred to me that if something unspeakable happened, if I lost the Weirdo, I would still be there on Thanksgiving. I would be picking up that cute little one year old and making funny faces at her. I'd be looking at toys on sale with the two and a half year old. I'd still be the designated turkey picker - which is the incredibly important job of picking all the meat off the turkey after dinner has ended. I would be there with the Weirdo's family - my family - because I wanted to be there. I finished my smoke and went back inside just in time to discover the Monkey had an absolutely foul smelling diaper.
And so, like I said, I had a really great Thanksgiving today. I try to learn something new every day, and maybe today's lesson is this: whether you're out drinking, playing football, or turkey pickin', Thanksgiving is about being there with your family and remembering just how lucky you are to have them.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
A Baby & A Knight
First and foremost, I want to say congratulations to my brother in law and his wonderful wife, who gave birth to their son this morning. I haven't met the new baby yet, but I should get to see him in the next day or two.
The Weirdo, the Monkey, and I were up at the hospital last night while she was still in labor. The Weirdo was in the delivery room helping out while I had the monkey out in the lobby. I hadn't been in that part of the hospital since the Monkey was born, and it brought all kinds of memories flooding back. I remembered the lobby being filled with family and friends, all full of anticipation. I thought about walking back and forth down that long hallway to give updates to everyone in the lobby. Most of all, I remember feeling almost numb at times when the Monkey was being born. Like my mind was on a loop saying "Look what's happening! You're about to become a father! Remember every second of this! Look look look!" I remember when the Monkey's head was out but the rest of him wasn't the doctor started turning his head. I instantly thought the doctor was nearly breaking my half-born child's neck and was ready to knock her out of the way.
Just being in the maternity wing is a little exciting. To think that so many lives start there, so much joy is delivered all in one section of one hospital. I'd be lying if I said I didn't catch a little baby fever while I was there. I cooled off a little when the Monkey removed his shoe and dunked it in my sweet tea.
The Monkey and I went home for the night, leaving the Weirdo in the delivery room. I put him to bed and settled in for the night. Around 3 AM my phone went off with a new text message from the Weirdo asking if I was awake. I texted back that I was, and she called me a few minutes later. The Weirdo had a sinus infection that had gone from crappy to really bad in a pretty short time. She had a fever over 102 and felt awful. The problem was I had the car since I had the Monkey, so she had no way home. She asked if I would come get her.
I jumped up as if spring loaded. This was a rare opportunity! The Weirdo actually asking for help! The Weirdo is a very strong, independent woman and I love that about her. The other side to that is I don't get to play knight in shining armor for her too often. So I got the Monkey up and loaded into the car by 3:15. He woke up in the car and looked around before turning to me with a puzzled look and asking "Mama?"
How a toddler under 2 years old seems to intuitively know his mother is the reason he was pulled out of bed in the middle of the night is beyond me. He already knows a lot about women for his age.
So I got the Weirdo home and the Monkey back to bed. Made her breakfast in bed this morning and took care of the Monkey all day. Grabbed lunch, some groceries, and her prescription while the Monkey napped. Spent the evening catching up with the DVR. I'm sad that we didn't get to go have that time at the hospital with the new baby, but glad that I got to take care of my girl today. It fills that deep, instinctual need that guys have to feel like they've taken care of their family.
And now, the Weirdo and the Monkey are both soundly sleeping, the house is warm and secure, and there's food in the fridge for tomorrow. I can go to bed a happy man.
The Weirdo, the Monkey, and I were up at the hospital last night while she was still in labor. The Weirdo was in the delivery room helping out while I had the monkey out in the lobby. I hadn't been in that part of the hospital since the Monkey was born, and it brought all kinds of memories flooding back. I remembered the lobby being filled with family and friends, all full of anticipation. I thought about walking back and forth down that long hallway to give updates to everyone in the lobby. Most of all, I remember feeling almost numb at times when the Monkey was being born. Like my mind was on a loop saying "Look what's happening! You're about to become a father! Remember every second of this! Look look look!" I remember when the Monkey's head was out but the rest of him wasn't the doctor started turning his head. I instantly thought the doctor was nearly breaking my half-born child's neck and was ready to knock her out of the way.
Just being in the maternity wing is a little exciting. To think that so many lives start there, so much joy is delivered all in one section of one hospital. I'd be lying if I said I didn't catch a little baby fever while I was there. I cooled off a little when the Monkey removed his shoe and dunked it in my sweet tea.
The Monkey and I went home for the night, leaving the Weirdo in the delivery room. I put him to bed and settled in for the night. Around 3 AM my phone went off with a new text message from the Weirdo asking if I was awake. I texted back that I was, and she called me a few minutes later. The Weirdo had a sinus infection that had gone from crappy to really bad in a pretty short time. She had a fever over 102 and felt awful. The problem was I had the car since I had the Monkey, so she had no way home. She asked if I would come get her.
I jumped up as if spring loaded. This was a rare opportunity! The Weirdo actually asking for help! The Weirdo is a very strong, independent woman and I love that about her. The other side to that is I don't get to play knight in shining armor for her too often. So I got the Monkey up and loaded into the car by 3:15. He woke up in the car and looked around before turning to me with a puzzled look and asking "Mama?"
How a toddler under 2 years old seems to intuitively know his mother is the reason he was pulled out of bed in the middle of the night is beyond me. He already knows a lot about women for his age.
So I got the Weirdo home and the Monkey back to bed. Made her breakfast in bed this morning and took care of the Monkey all day. Grabbed lunch, some groceries, and her prescription while the Monkey napped. Spent the evening catching up with the DVR. I'm sad that we didn't get to go have that time at the hospital with the new baby, but glad that I got to take care of my girl today. It fills that deep, instinctual need that guys have to feel like they've taken care of their family.
And now, the Weirdo and the Monkey are both soundly sleeping, the house is warm and secure, and there's food in the fridge for tomorrow. I can go to bed a happy man.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Deer, Speed, & Ass Cheeks
It all started when "I Got A Feeling" started coming through the car speakers. The song wasn't even half over before the first of three out of the ordinary events of the night got started.
Car wreck with a deer. Got there and saw an old pickup parked on the shoulder. The deer was still alive but badly injured. Seeing an animal in pain is just horrible. The poor deer couldn't even stand up. It tried, but it's broken body was nothing more than dead weight. A few moments after I got there it just laid it's head down, waiting for the inevitable. I couldn't help but wonder: if a deer realizes it's going to die and looks completely defeated, what must that feel like for a human being?
So I stopped traffic on the highway, praying to God that none of the headlights had any small children behind them. I walked up close to the deer. It looked at me, then looked blankly off into nothing. There was no flight or fight response, just the assumption that I was a predator and it's time was up.
A single shot rang out in the night. The deer did that awful twitchy thing for a few seconds, and then I let traffic go. While waiting for the wrecker to get there I remembered that a person had been killed very near this same spot only a few weeks ago. My imagination flared up and I immediately had thoughts of a ghost possessing deer to run out into the road in front of oncoming traffic.
Great, I shot the ghost's deer.
The driver's son showed up to give him a ride home, as his truck's radiator was trashed. The son took a moment to walk over and have a look at the deer. He was a hunter, and mentioned that the deer would be no good to eat because of the wreck.
Don't taunt the deer ghost dude. Not cool.
A few hours later I was on the interstate running the laser, looking more for people going 20 under (likely DUI) than actual speeders. The headlights all blur together after a while, and real speeders aren't as common as you might think. The vast majority of cars on the highway are going between 10 and 15 over, which is not enough to get my attention. I was out there for about an hour and had only gotten one, and I had a growing need to get to a bathroom. Stupid free fountain drinks for cops. Suddenly I noticed one set of headlights was moving a hell of a lot faster than all the other headlights. In the maybe half second it took to bring up and aim the laser I realized those headlights were going really, really fast.
106 in the laser display. 65 on the speed limit sign.
The car blew past me without hitting the brakes. I slammed my Crown Vic into gear and punched it, kicking up dirt and gravel on the side of the road. I floored the gas pedal. 70. 80. 90. The speeder, a Honda, didn't seem to be getting much closer. At 115 I hit the blue lights and flipped the siren on. I was still about 500 feet behind the Honda, but slowly gaining. This was the moment of truth. The Honda had barely slowed, if at all, from when he first shot by me. I wasn't entirely sure if this was a pursuit or if the driver was waiting to see if I was willing to work to get him.
A few seconds after the blue lights lit up the highway I saw the Honda brake and begin moving to the right. Thank God. We pulled over onto the right shoulder a full 2 miles from where I had been sitting. My hands shook just a little bit as I put it back into park. Going from sitting in one spot bored half to death for an hour to suddenly racing down the highway at breakneck speed plays absolute hell with your nerves.
The driver hung both hands, one clutching his driver's license, out the window of his car. I walked up and aimed my flashlight into his car. The driver briefly looked up at me with sad eyes, and then dropped his head down to his chest. He looked exactly like that deer.
Finally, a couple hours later, I was in the mood for another free fountain drink. I bounced into my favorite gas station just after 4 AM. I walked through the door and, like most cops, took just a moment to note my surroundings. There was my buddy the clerk behind the counter, and a woman walking down one of the aisles towards me. I began telling the clerk the tale of my 106'er on the interstate as the woman passed by me. My voice may have faltered when she did. The woman from the front appeared to be dressed normally. When she walked by me it was revealed that there were no backs to her... um... I guess you might call them pants. Where the back of her pants was supposed to be was instead a very thin and completely transparent mesh of sorts. There was a piece of fabric in an inverted V shape that covered her BoomBadaHeyHey. So basically it was legs and ass cheeks walking through a gas station at 4 in the morning.
As a happily married man who tries very hard to be a gentleman, I took the high road and hid in the corner until she left. It's only a few degrees above freezing outside tonight, so I mentally willed the clerk behind the counter to ask her the question burning in my mind: aren't you cold?
I got back to my car just in time to see the poor girl drive off down the highway... right towards ghost deer.
May God have mercy on herass cheeks soul.
Car wreck with a deer. Got there and saw an old pickup parked on the shoulder. The deer was still alive but badly injured. Seeing an animal in pain is just horrible. The poor deer couldn't even stand up. It tried, but it's broken body was nothing more than dead weight. A few moments after I got there it just laid it's head down, waiting for the inevitable. I couldn't help but wonder: if a deer realizes it's going to die and looks completely defeated, what must that feel like for a human being?
So I stopped traffic on the highway, praying to God that none of the headlights had any small children behind them. I walked up close to the deer. It looked at me, then looked blankly off into nothing. There was no flight or fight response, just the assumption that I was a predator and it's time was up.
A single shot rang out in the night. The deer did that awful twitchy thing for a few seconds, and then I let traffic go. While waiting for the wrecker to get there I remembered that a person had been killed very near this same spot only a few weeks ago. My imagination flared up and I immediately had thoughts of a ghost possessing deer to run out into the road in front of oncoming traffic.
Great, I shot the ghost's deer.
The driver's son showed up to give him a ride home, as his truck's radiator was trashed. The son took a moment to walk over and have a look at the deer. He was a hunter, and mentioned that the deer would be no good to eat because of the wreck.
Don't taunt the deer ghost dude. Not cool.
A few hours later I was on the interstate running the laser, looking more for people going 20 under (likely DUI) than actual speeders. The headlights all blur together after a while, and real speeders aren't as common as you might think. The vast majority of cars on the highway are going between 10 and 15 over, which is not enough to get my attention. I was out there for about an hour and had only gotten one, and I had a growing need to get to a bathroom. Stupid free fountain drinks for cops. Suddenly I noticed one set of headlights was moving a hell of a lot faster than all the other headlights. In the maybe half second it took to bring up and aim the laser I realized those headlights were going really, really fast.
106 in the laser display. 65 on the speed limit sign.
The car blew past me without hitting the brakes. I slammed my Crown Vic into gear and punched it, kicking up dirt and gravel on the side of the road. I floored the gas pedal. 70. 80. 90. The speeder, a Honda, didn't seem to be getting much closer. At 115 I hit the blue lights and flipped the siren on. I was still about 500 feet behind the Honda, but slowly gaining. This was the moment of truth. The Honda had barely slowed, if at all, from when he first shot by me. I wasn't entirely sure if this was a pursuit or if the driver was waiting to see if I was willing to work to get him.
A few seconds after the blue lights lit up the highway I saw the Honda brake and begin moving to the right. Thank God. We pulled over onto the right shoulder a full 2 miles from where I had been sitting. My hands shook just a little bit as I put it back into park. Going from sitting in one spot bored half to death for an hour to suddenly racing down the highway at breakneck speed plays absolute hell with your nerves.
The driver hung both hands, one clutching his driver's license, out the window of his car. I walked up and aimed my flashlight into his car. The driver briefly looked up at me with sad eyes, and then dropped his head down to his chest. He looked exactly like that deer.
Finally, a couple hours later, I was in the mood for another free fountain drink. I bounced into my favorite gas station just after 4 AM. I walked through the door and, like most cops, took just a moment to note my surroundings. There was my buddy the clerk behind the counter, and a woman walking down one of the aisles towards me. I began telling the clerk the tale of my 106'er on the interstate as the woman passed by me. My voice may have faltered when she did. The woman from the front appeared to be dressed normally. When she walked by me it was revealed that there were no backs to her... um... I guess you might call them pants. Where the back of her pants was supposed to be was instead a very thin and completely transparent mesh of sorts. There was a piece of fabric in an inverted V shape that covered her BoomBadaHeyHey. So basically it was legs and ass cheeks walking through a gas station at 4 in the morning.
As a happily married man who tries very hard to be a gentleman, I took the high road and hid in the corner until she left. It's only a few degrees above freezing outside tonight, so I mentally willed the clerk behind the counter to ask her the question burning in my mind: aren't you cold?
I got back to my car just in time to see the poor girl drive off down the highway... right towards ghost deer.
May God have mercy on her
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Long-Term Storage
The Monkey is getting to the point where he could be making his first permanent memory any time now. I don't know exactly how old I was, but I do remember being in diapers. So what, two years old? The Monkey is fast approaching his second birthday and I'm beginning to wonder what his first memory might be.
I'm forming memories of him all the time. Just to name a few:
Recently he's decided he likes sitting on the back porch swing with me. He'll be playing out back, picking up sticks and rolling his trucks across the deck, when suddenly he'll come tromping over and climb up next to me on the swing. He never sits too close - he still needs his space. That's a child of the Weirdo for sure. So he'll climb up and I push the swing. He'll look out into the yard, seemingly lost in wonder at the sight of the world. And then just for a few moments he'll look over at me and smile, or babble, or just look at me while I talk to him.
The other night it was time for bed. The Weirdo and I told the Monkey this, and he of course went into "But how can you put me to bed while I'm so cute and loving on you?" mode. The Monkey crawled up onto the couch and tucked himself between her and the couch cushions. He laid there with her, doing his very best impression of an infant, while every few seconds cutting his eyes up to see if I was still there.
It's little moments like these that will stay in my mind forever. But what will be his first memory? Will it be one of these moments that is meaningful to me, or will it be some random point in time when his little brain finally figures out the whole long-term storage thing?
Regardless of when he starts making his first memories, I hope they're good ones.
I'm forming memories of him all the time. Just to name a few:
Recently he's decided he likes sitting on the back porch swing with me. He'll be playing out back, picking up sticks and rolling his trucks across the deck, when suddenly he'll come tromping over and climb up next to me on the swing. He never sits too close - he still needs his space. That's a child of the Weirdo for sure. So he'll climb up and I push the swing. He'll look out into the yard, seemingly lost in wonder at the sight of the world. And then just for a few moments he'll look over at me and smile, or babble, or just look at me while I talk to him.
The other night it was time for bed. The Weirdo and I told the Monkey this, and he of course went into "But how can you put me to bed while I'm so cute and loving on you?" mode. The Monkey crawled up onto the couch and tucked himself between her and the couch cushions. He laid there with her, doing his very best impression of an infant, while every few seconds cutting his eyes up to see if I was still there.
It's little moments like these that will stay in my mind forever. But what will be his first memory? Will it be one of these moments that is meaningful to me, or will it be some random point in time when his little brain finally figures out the whole long-term storage thing?
Regardless of when he starts making his first memories, I hope they're good ones.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Blah
Feeling like absolute hell at work right now.
The shift was chugging along happily when all of a sudden my nose was bothering me. Then I started sneezing. Before I knew it my eyes were watering, I was sneezing almost constantly, and my nose was somehow both stuffed up and running.
Just a couple more hours to get through, and then it's home for some wonderful sleep.
Had a great weekend with the Weirdo & the Monkey. Party on Friday night was a lot of fun, even if the Weirdo went home early. Got to actually have some drinks with some friends! Seems like such a big deal to me because it happens so rarely these days. Not complaining, just commenting. Drinking gets too expensive anyway. Although I would like to drop in to the new bar in town still. Hmmm..
Made a lot of progress on the house since the tree fell too. The street department guys pretty much did everything except delimb the tree - which I did with a hand saw. That was a great idea. Tree is gone now, and the stump/trunk shoved back into the neighbor's yard from whence they came.
Anyway, back to the grind.
The shift was chugging along happily when all of a sudden my nose was bothering me. Then I started sneezing. Before I knew it my eyes were watering, I was sneezing almost constantly, and my nose was somehow both stuffed up and running.
Just a couple more hours to get through, and then it's home for some wonderful sleep.
Had a great weekend with the Weirdo & the Monkey. Party on Friday night was a lot of fun, even if the Weirdo went home early. Got to actually have some drinks with some friends! Seems like such a big deal to me because it happens so rarely these days. Not complaining, just commenting. Drinking gets too expensive anyway. Although I would like to drop in to the new bar in town still. Hmmm..
Made a lot of progress on the house since the tree fell too. The street department guys pretty much did everything except delimb the tree - which I did with a hand saw. That was a great idea. Tree is gone now, and the stump/trunk shoved back into the neighbor's yard from whence they came.
Anyway, back to the grind.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Three Moms, Three Kids
The last twelve hours have given me three different looks at kids and their moms. I thought I'd share:
The first was the Monkey. Just after I clocked in at work I went back home to our neighborhood. Met up with the Weirdo, the Monkey, and a few more family members that were taking the Monkey and his cousin trick or treating. It was a slow night for Halloween, so I got to take the Monkey up to the doors of several houses and get some candy - most of which he probably won't eat. The Monkey, not quite 2 yet, was having a great time. He was walking and babbling, enjoying the company of his family while occasionally stooping to put a nice looking rock or leaf into his jack-o-lantern candy bucket. He didn't have a care in the world and was only concerned with whatever stimulus he received from one moment to the next. I headed back to work, leaving the Monkey with the Weirdo. Happy times!
Fast forward a few hours.
A mother calls 9-1-1 because her 9 year old has run away - again. She brought her kids to work with her because she has no childcare available to her. The 9 year old had just been punished today because he had gotten in trouble at school. So, the mom wouldn't let him go trick or treating tonight. Having missed his opportunity for free candy the 9 year old took off from his mom's work. I found him walking a few blocks away, and when he saw me he started running. I caught him and brought him back to mom. I had a few minutes to talk to the kid.
I hate my mom.
I don't want to live with my mom.
And so on and so forth. He didn't really hate his mom. She didn't give him everything he wanted and always let him have his way so he was angry. The mom said each time he didn't get his way he would try to run away.
A few more hours later.
Teenager with a blown tire on I-85. On his way back to Alabama, coming from a concert here in Atlanta. He was struggling just a little with changing his tire, so I helped him out. He surprised me when he said he was thankful his mother had showed him how to change a tire. I guess I kinda expected him to say his dad had taught him. The Weirdo would not be pleased at my gender-based assumptions. She might tell me to go blog about it.
Anyway, I guess weather you're trying to be a good mother to a toddler, a preteen, or a full-blown teenager with a driver's license, there really is no set job description. That's probably true for good fathers too. Trick or treating, punishment, or emergency road service - it's all included with a million more things.
A big thank you to all the good parents out there!
The first was the Monkey. Just after I clocked in at work I went back home to our neighborhood. Met up with the Weirdo, the Monkey, and a few more family members that were taking the Monkey and his cousin trick or treating. It was a slow night for Halloween, so I got to take the Monkey up to the doors of several houses and get some candy - most of which he probably won't eat. The Monkey, not quite 2 yet, was having a great time. He was walking and babbling, enjoying the company of his family while occasionally stooping to put a nice looking rock or leaf into his jack-o-lantern candy bucket. He didn't have a care in the world and was only concerned with whatever stimulus he received from one moment to the next. I headed back to work, leaving the Monkey with the Weirdo. Happy times!
Fast forward a few hours.
A mother calls 9-1-1 because her 9 year old has run away - again. She brought her kids to work with her because she has no childcare available to her. The 9 year old had just been punished today because he had gotten in trouble at school. So, the mom wouldn't let him go trick or treating tonight. Having missed his opportunity for free candy the 9 year old took off from his mom's work. I found him walking a few blocks away, and when he saw me he started running. I caught him and brought him back to mom. I had a few minutes to talk to the kid.
I hate my mom.
I don't want to live with my mom.
And so on and so forth. He didn't really hate his mom. She didn't give him everything he wanted and always let him have his way so he was angry. The mom said each time he didn't get his way he would try to run away.
A few more hours later.
Teenager with a blown tire on I-85. On his way back to Alabama, coming from a concert here in Atlanta. He was struggling just a little with changing his tire, so I helped him out. He surprised me when he said he was thankful his mother had showed him how to change a tire. I guess I kinda expected him to say his dad had taught him. The Weirdo would not be pleased at my gender-based assumptions. She might tell me to go blog about it.
Anyway, I guess weather you're trying to be a good mother to a toddler, a preteen, or a full-blown teenager with a driver's license, there really is no set job description. That's probably true for good fathers too. Trick or treating, punishment, or emergency road service - it's all included with a million more things.
A big thank you to all the good parents out there!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)