Mom to son around 4 years old at front door of daycare today, “can you punch in the code buddy? What’s the code?”
Son: “123 hashtag” (not putting the real numbers here. Duh.)
OH MAH GAH!! THAT’S WHAT THEY WILL GROW UP CALLING A POUND SIGN!
#FeelAncient
Just Sayin’.
The Mr. figures The Casa has about 10 years in it for our fam, before we get antsy for a change or want something bigger.
I countered this theory with the suggestion that we’d reassess the year before Jr starts legit school, so we wouldn’t move him after he’d gained chums in his class… ‘you know, in case we decided to centralize back toward the city.”
Like the traitor to our urban beginnings he has turned so quickly into, he cut me off fast, “We are NOT going back!”
😐
He never COULD parallel park.
Just sayin’.
Ahhhh, a beautiful, warm February day in the burbs. Meaning, it seems, that middle-aged dads strap on Black leather jackets they (I can only assume must’ve,) bought at Macys over their Gap clearance wear, and ride around in packs on Harleys looking sad, er, “super cool.”
Save me. Serious.
Just Sayin’.
I miss the trash chute in our highrise.
Particularly funky dipes? Leftovers abandoned in the back corner of the fridge? Wipes full of whatever-the-hell the dog rolled in on his last walk? NO PROBLEM!!! Stick it down the chute!
Now I have a shelf in the freezer to keep stinky food-stuff from funking up the trash can in the garage until trash day.
Frozen trash?
Sigh.
Just sayin’.
Wherever you go, there you are. You’ve been warned.
Reluctantly Suburban