Our four desks were pushed together for a Thanksgiving art project; we wrapped bits of Autumn-colored tissue paper around the end of No. 2 pencils, carefully dipped the wrapped end into the puddle of Elmer’s Glue squirted onto a scrap of construction paper, and placed the florette onto the the inside of the outline of a turkey. 1…2…3… Ten seconds for each one to dry and the process to start all over again.
What a perfect time for my 4th grade teacher to join us!
Conversation was breezy but quickly turned to talk of Christmas presents… Boy Student, “Can you believe that I believed in Santa Clause until I was in SECOND GRADE!” Laughter from the table… Laughter fades… MY TEACHER confides in the little group, “You guys, don’t laugh I believed in Santa Clause until I was in FOURTH GRADE!”
Hmm, *I* believed in Santa Clause until that very moment. đ <–Frowny Face
OH, BUT WHY DOES LIFE HAVE TO BE SO PEPPERED WITH DISILLUSIONMENT??
Fast forward 33 years, DreamWorks Studios
just ordered 400 of THIS card.
Sooo, there’s that or whatever.
I’m assuming this little person was Trick-or-Treating… But I see no treat bag, nor do I see a 3-ring binder, NOR DO I SEE the latest issue of The Watchtower.
See how intense she is?
It only seemed appropriate that this card be printed first:
barks at anything and everything within a 500 foot perimeter of our house? Mailman, delivery-person, solicitors, neighbors, guests, the kids, trick-or-treaters, my mom… We’ve talked a lot about it and she feels super responsible for alerting us – I told her that we really don’t need that kind of help, BUT WE DID. SHE WAS RIGHT. SHE’S ALWAYS RIGHT.
And he threw the lock in the dirt like some sort of criminal.
so I made a Father’s Day Card out of that little man.
BACK TO MIGRATING/WEEPING.
I only gave birth to them to provide me with free manual labor. Ha! Who’s laughing now, boys??
OR a bath??
I barely do.
She was so dedicated! 
(Grip those handles! Safety first, Dylan!)
ALSO, I made this because I am so into politics:
So, you don’t need to watch the news tonight. You’re welcome.
The other passengers made calls on their flip-phones, watched who-knows-what on portable televisions, drove their remote-controlled cars up and down the aisle, talked to each other on walkie-talkies, and blasted music on transistor radios! Meanwhile we, The Law-Abiding, were stuck in the teeny-tiny bathroom, forced to take hysterical selfies.
BUT, we managed to land safely, no thanks to all of that recklessness. I will NOT be giving them my latest Thank You Card.
The very next day was filled with so much splashing and laughter and sunscreen, I’m sure Ben was looking down on us and giggling! Oh, how he’d giggle!
AND here’s a little thing from The Boston Globe about 
The odor of rotten animal is unforgettable and like the odor of rotting potato, it is embedded in the brain. But sometimes the brain jumbles the smell of decomposing rodent with the smell of a blanket of maggots coating the bottom of the garbage can.