My husband and I just returned from yet another family road trip with our two toddlers, and I can honestly tell you that I would rather listen to Janice from Friends say, “Chaaaaaaaaandlerrrrrrrrr,” on constant loop than listen to Dora the Explorer ask thousands of questions.
For 17 hours.
“Just get a stupid smart phone with GPS already, Dora. For the LOVE!”
This was an unexpected road trip for us, and I posted more about that on my own blog today. So, after you’re done hanging out with Anna, you can come to my blog and check that out. Or not. Whatever.
Anna’s always been cooler than me. I understand if you’d rather hang out with her. She used to sit at the popular table in school. I don’t know that for a fact, but I bet she did. I bet her mom packed Fruit Roll ups and Capri Sun in her lunch. And you know she knew how to put the straw in the top without spilling it all over her clean, white Keds. Editor’s Note – Katy – did you see me in high school? Trust me – I was *NOT* at the cool kids’ table!
I promise this post has a point.
Prison. That is the point of this post. As in, we currently live in Leavenworth, Kansas, the prison capitol of… Kansas, I guess. And I am convinced that my husband is – in some odd, passive-aggressive way – trying to secure himself a spot there.
Free TV. No kids. Hot meals. Laundry service. A routine bedtime. Pickup games of football in the back lawn (kid you not, I can hear them playing from my front door).
It gives a whole new meaning to the term “prison break.”
And I guess Brian has decided that a speeding ticket every other week* is the best way to reserve a room for himself.
Well, Mr. Lead Foot, not so fast (see what I did there?). Because prison could never give you what you have here at home. Like a home-cooked… Like a quiet place… Like…
Take me with you.