If there’s one bullet I’ve dodged as a parent, it’s picky eating. Somehow, by some miracle, both of my kids have eaten really well since day one. They like fresh fruit and vegetables, seafood, spicy dishes, sushi, you name it. They’re easy to feed at restaurants and other people’s houses (remember going to other people’s houses?? Haha, sob). Basically, I make food and they consume it, with very few exceptions. I am incredibly lucky; this I know.
To the makers of LEGO,
This isn’t yet another complaint about how much it hurts to step on one of your pointy pieces.
Yesterday I texted my daughter’s teacher the word pancakes.
Because, you know, we’re living in a pandemic and it’s back to work and trying to keep things ‘normal’ and not panic our faces off and do all the things while worrying about our jobs and waiting on the vaccine / worrying it will give us rickets (it won’t, don’t @ me) and not letting our eyes roll right out of our heads when someone says they’re doing ‘dry January’ and constantly answering questions like ‘hey mom, is a hot dog a sandwich?’ or ‘hey mom, would you rather fight a bear-sized duck or a duck-sized bear?’
I was born less than a month before Christmas, and my brother was born less than a month after Christmas. Growing up I always remember my parents commenting on how it can sometimes be frustrating having children born so close to the biggest holiday of the year. In my case, they were planning Christmas gifts but also had to buy me a birthday gift around the same time. In my brother’s case, they had to buy him a gift right after he already received everything he ever wanted!
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Unprecedented. Unpredictable. Uncertain. Unusual. Unheard of.
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