Restaurant dining calls for nonviolent resistance.
Here is my handle, here is my spout.
Boo!
Fall Carnival, suitably spooktastic.
The 9yo slipped on a pair of my heels.
In which we’ve invisibly surpassed the “days are long” phase and hyperdrived to the years being cruelly short.
Pfffffft.
Ginger Grant never met a party favor she didn’t love (to death).
Amor et odium, aeternam.
This kitten is so naughty! The naughtiest in a house STUFFED with naughty beings! If she’s not sleeping, there’s something crashing, or she’s getting trapped in house spots that heretofore never existed, or she’s using Leroy Brown’s tail as a swing! But we all love her fiercely, even this big meanie.
Who needs Olan Mills.
Newest family member, Ginger Grant, delicious bundle of big-eyed badness.
Disco Day
In a shocking turn of events, it was confirmed that they love the nightlife, they got to boogie.
Medicinal
Five-year-old: “Mama, can I help open Ellie’s medicine?” Me: “Sure baby, just hold it upright. Don’t let it spill.” Five-year-old: “Mama, I can’t open it. The cap just spins!” Me: “Oh, right. That’s because it’s a childproof cap. And you’re a small child. Someday, when you’re an adult, you’ll be handed many keys to adulthood,…
Spring, sprung
On Seattle’s storm-bruised vernal equinox, arms upraised in promise: The littlest, lashed: