Dear People Who See Me Running Errands with My Sons,
Thank you for pointing out the flaws in my boys’ attire (shirt on backwards, wearing pajama bottoms instead of pants, not wearing socks, holding a wand that doesn’t match his princess dress) instead of congratulating me on the miracle of being out with both of my sons substantially clothed before noon.
I especially appreciate it when you say, “I remember you used to dress your little girl in the cutest outfits and hairdos,” to remind me from what heights I have fallen.
Might I return the favor by correcting you? To say “His shoes are on the wrong feet,” is inaccurate. He is wearing both left shoes from two identical pairs, and his brother is wearing both right shoes. Technically, only one of his shoes is on the wrong foot.
There’s no call for exaggeration, okay?
But thanks for the free balloons and cookies and stuff.
This past week I hit a possible all-time low when I took both boys in pajamas and shoes to my dermatologist’s office. It’s a super swanky MedSpa place in McLean with teal velvet chairs and crystal sconces. Fancy. Salty immediately asked, “Can we go on all the rides here?” Well seeing as how the last ride I took there was when Dr. Lilly cut a mole off the insole of my foot, I could safely say, “You wouldn’t like them.” Thank you vampiric pallor and family history of melanoma for all the adventure you bring to my life.