Time marches on

It feels like just yesterday that I was trying to figure out how to fill up eleven weeks of summer vacation. (The answer is camp, cheap camp, free camp, grandparent camp, cousins at the beach camp, hanging with neighborhood kids, and camp iPad.)

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Holy mackerel

He is NINE. Let that sink in a moment. Remember this?

We did not ask permission before stuffing him into this outfit.

We did not ask permission before stuffing him into this outfit.

Feel free to hum a little Tracey Lawrence. I know I am.

You can’t win ’em all

Catholic School

I had the chance to pick up B  from school recently, which is a rare experience for me. I insisted on a detour to CVS where we purchased both necessities (milk, Diet Coke) and non-necessities (gum and stickers). This meant that we deviated from the usual route, but change is good, right?

Last night, on a break from ranting about the raccoon sized hole in my kitchen ceiling, I told Mr  how much I enjoyed getting to be a daytime Mommy. I think he secretly enjoyed bursting my bubble when he relayed the following quote from our son:

Daddy, please don’t let Mommy pick me up from school again. I like it so much better when you pick me up.

I’m not sure what I did wrong – I thought we were having a good time!

B, apparently HATING the walk home. Who knew?