I spent yesterday watching a tragic afternoon of Auburn football at the home of my pal and fellow blogger FRT.
I'd like to say that I visit them to enjoy catching up with him and his lovely wife (both of whom I've known since high school and are two of my favorite people), but I think we all know that I head to his house because I adore his kids - Things 1-3. It's nice to be around kids with whom I can enjoy intelligent, compelling conversation, such as the talk I had with my cohort in middle child-dom, kindergarten-aged Thing 2 after we heard another child claim to be a princess:
Thing 2: I don't like princesses. Don't. Like. Them.
LAB: Me either!
LAB: Yep - princess is a crummy job, if you ask me.
LAB: Because everyone knows that in a constitutional monarchy, parliament has all the power. To aspire to be anything less than Prime Minister is to choose to be a figurehead. Plus, I'm pretty sure princesses have to wear pantyhose.
T2: Ummm.. What?
LAB: Princess bad. Prime Mister good.
T2: Right. Want some Skittles? I saved you some red ones.
God, I love that kid.
If you've ever wondered why I shouldn't have kids...there's the answer.