Our youngest, referred to herein as Potsticker, or Pik for brevity, shared the following joke with me this morning. (Her life is a barrel of bloody razor-blades. Just ask her.)
It’s not original, so if you’re the one who told it first, well, sucks to be you.
First-born child: “Mommy, why am I named Petal?”
Mommy: “Because when you were born, a petal landed on your head.”
Second-born child: “Mommy, why am I named Rose?”
Mommy: “Because when you were born, a rose landed on your head.”
Last-born child: “My favorite color is potato.”
Mommy: “Shut the hell up, Brick!”
Love Notes from the Lake
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My favourite is Pik’s maniacal grin in the photo. You know she’ll be JUST FINE. (as opposed to most first and second born offspring)
Let us hope. Time will surely tell!
I’m awesome.
You are. Don’t tell anyone.
It’s between you and me. And the internet. But who goes on that anymore?
Yeah, that’s so last week.