I love having this blog, however sporadically I may update it, because I know all of the people reading it can totally relate to me and my experience as a mother. Except for my brother.
Ya know how sometimes your two-year-old insists on using the potty herself and then she falls in? And you’re totally embarrassed because you’re at a playdate with kids who did not fall in the potty? My childless friends (and those who pay attention to their children) just can’t relate.
(FYI these snazzy Ked’s shoes dry within just hours and hours! It would be speculative to assume the boogers she was picking dried first. But I think they did.)
My brother, lone male reader of minivan, and his lovely wife have seven children. The oldest turned 11 this week and the youngest is three-months-old. Or four months. What am I saying, I have no idea. I don’t even remember the baby’s name. But it might be a girl. Oh, that would be so great. I hope it’s a girl!
Should anything happen to my brother and sister-in-law, Ethan and I would be awarded custody of their children. All seven of them. Even the one who was born sometime last fall and who may or may not be a girl. I feel honored they would choose us to raise their children and feel confident we would not take advantage of the situation by cashing in their life insurance policy, selling their children (but not all of them because remotes can’t pass themselves), and using the money to campaign for low-flow toilets.
Thanks for reading, Bro. Buckle up!