The only big news is the new addition to our family.
Not that kind of addition, as is clearly illustrated by the lack of blood and tears in this post.
PD went to a gun show today with her father and grandfather and came home with a small, soft shelled turtle named Snake.
When the hell people started hawking turtles at gun shows, I can't tell you. While the turtle is cute, he'll likely outlive me and evidently carries a risk of Salmonella. I have washed my child's hands five times in the last two hours.
Feast your eyes on Snake, the disease riddled flavor of the month.
I've seen other people do it and like the results, so this evening I made my husband gut a pumpkin and then I made my kid sit in it while I documented the experience. Little E had a screaming day, so I figure he owes me.
These are the stages of pumpkin entrapment from grief to acceptance.
Stage One: This is BULLSHIT!!! You cannot do this to me! I have rights!!
Stage Two: Wait. Wait just a minute. I think I may be able to EAT this S.O.B.
Stage Three: Chomp, chomp, chomp.
Stage Four: I am sated. Remove me from this autumnal fruit.
In the true style of my youngest child, he took what could have been a real crap day and ate it.