"What are you lookin' at?"
This morning in the mad dash to get the kids to school on time, I ran upstairs to throw on a pair of jeans, leaving them to their own TV-less devices only to return downstairs to find four-year old Hamish screaming for help, his leg stuck between the wall and the bed where his two-year old sister Stella had pushed him. That's what you get for not putting your socks on when I told you the first ninety times. And yet, how many times does Stella shriek with rage because her big brudder knocked her down, took her shoe, closed the door on her? Many, my friends. My new mantra, other than, "You gotta let that go," is "They're supposed to be irritating." It truly helps. And so do your comments. Go us.