In this heat we’ve had to water the plants twice a day. Here the almost-three-year-old helps out.
Two-year-olds make me tired. They are a tornado of “No!”-this and “mine!”-that leaving a path of destruction in their wake. Six-year-olds are so reasonable (mostly). Why isn’t he six, yet?
Anyone with some free sanity (and maybe a maid) can throw some of that my way, mkay?
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Categories : the son, the zebra, vent