Boo turned twelve in December. This means she has entered full teenager-mode.
(In my experience, female children don’t wait for age 13 to be “Teens.” Girls are so precocious, you know!)
So Boo has entered semi-hibernation for the next few years, planning to only emerge from her room (now known as The Boo Cave) for meals and to hog the bathroom. Here is my view of her now.
See you at age 18, Boo! We will know you are still alive from the dirty dishes, wet towels, and piles of clothes you leave outside your cave.
I have my kids’ school pictures up on the wall in the entryway. I change them out every year when they get new ones, sometimes twice a year if they get fall and spring pictures done. I save the old pictures in a special album.
I really like doing this.The only problem with this system comes in when the kids get older and start to dislike how their pictures look. Not that there’s anything wrong with their pictures; it’s just that they are teenagers and they are getting picky.
My oldest daughter (ET) complained about her picture every year for about five years, but now that we’ve got her senior picture up this year she can stop.
It’s the last one, and it’s beautiful.
But her sister GG, the next oldest at 15, is still complaining about her high school freshman photo, which has graced our wall for the last several months.
Now she has taken to silent protest.
Yes, that is the face of Russian president Vladimir Putin, taped over her own face.
You’ve got to give her points for creativity.
Yesterday I made dinner in the crockpot before going out for the day. It’s nice to have that chore all done, I said to myself.
When I came home, I expected the stew to be percolating cheerfully on the counter, its many flavors mingling into the savory mix my family enjoyed eating.
But when I sniffed the air, I could smell nothing. Oh no! Something was wrong.
With trepidation I approached the kitchen. The crockpot was right where I left it, on the kitchen counter, stone cold.
Apparently, IT HAD NEVER BEEN SWITCHED ON. I hate it when I do things like that.
Also, the knob fell off again. So maybe it wasn’t all my fault.
And maybe it’s time for a new crockpot…