Kids, QOTD



It’s after school.  We’re getting dressed to head out to collect Talky Talkerson from daycare.  I’ve had a fairly long day of training, skiing (woe is me) and chores.  I look, to say the least, disheleved.  I’m wearing post-workout clothes, a puffy, my hair is… mussed (fancy way of saying swim/helmet head).

Will: “I look weird.”

Me: “No, you don’t.  You look just fine.  I, however, look ridiculous.”

Will: “No Mum, you just look like an average senior.”


I’m here to tell you there’s no comeback for that.

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