You know what I love about three-year-olds? I love how the smallest things can cause them to have epic meltdowns. (Yes, that’s sarcasm.) But because I know so many of you will chuckle at this, and I like to spread the joy on Mondays, here are ten things Squeaker throws a fit about Every.
This one’s for Jackson Davis (hero of Southern Fried Blues) and Will Truitt (hero
We’ve been spending a lot of time in the car recently. And while the kids are super travelers, they get bored sometimes too. Which leads to Squeaker being… well… Squeaker.
The other day, we were driving around DC, getting acquainted with the area and talking about things we wanted
I was making breakfast while the boys were drinking their orange juice, and suddenly I heard it.
The distinctive sounds of bubbles being blown in someone’s orange juice.
Munchkin had filled the cups, and so they were pretty full, and nothing ruins a morning like having to stop cooking to
We’re on vacation now, but last week, we were in temporary base lodging. It was a hotel room with two beds, a dinky little kitchenette, and a table with three chairs. After a few days, the kids got a little stir-crazy if they were in the room too long, which meant dinner time got interesting.
Like
I get that not everybody is into this whole Happy Monday thing. So this week, I’m stepping back from those things that make me smile, and instead sacrificing myself for your grins and chuckles. Because these ten things don’t necessarily make me smile, but I suspect they’ll give
SuperHubby sent me this the other day. Hope y’all enjoy! We’re off to hang with friends today.
And if you’re looking for a great summer read, remember Southern Fried Blues
One of the hardships of moving is that we sometimes find things like root beers hidden in the back of SuperHubby’s beer fridge. Which means–darn it–last week, I had to drink a root beer.
(On a completely serious note, I love root beer. I may or may not have offered to trade
While I was traveling from Alabama to DC with my younger two, we had this one night after dinner:
Squeaker, Buttercup, and I shared it, and Squeaker demanded his own spoon. But the ice cream was so thick, every time he reached in for a bite, the plastic spoon bent precariously. And I started thinking
We got out to breakfast sometimes on the weekends, and recently, we made one such trip. It was all of seven minutes from our house to iHop, during which Munchkin and Squeaker decided to launch a career in stand-up comedy.
It started when we passed a Chick Fil A billboard. Munchkin improvised a
