When you find the TV remote and everyone stops working and turns, zombi-like, toward the boob-tube. We can all breath a sigh of relief. Life has returned to stasis.
My heart is warmed when, at lunch, I ask Kathleen (age 5) whether this is the best vacation ever, and she answers “Yes!”
My joy is then tarnished when she immediately looks down at her plate and announces “And this is the yummiest chicken nugget ever!”
Jennifer as I carefully brush oil onto our potato wedges: “Enough already. It’s not art, and you are not Bob Ross.”
You cut too deep, Jennifer. You cut too deep.