My baby boy (he’s 13, and would be mortified to be called my baby anything) is on a bus headed North. 14 hours after he left me blinking back a tear, he’ll be disembarking in Washington D.C., one of a gaggle of teenagers off to tour our capital city. I left him with firm instructions not to crack jokes about exploding items, people with terror intentions, or threats of ill will toward Republicans while in the city. The things we have to teach our children to keep them out of the hands of our national “protectors”.* I’m pretty sure that a mere 8 years ago, the talk about how disgusting the bus toilet facilities would become by the end of the trip would have been the only real warning I would have felt I had to give him. How far we’ve come.
Live Moment Update – My daughter just turned to me and said “Mommy, we need to start getting Green Bags so that we can keep our fruit and vegetables fresh, and stop throwing away our money. 10 bags! That’s how many they send you. Do you want the bad fruit, or the good fruit? I choose the good fruit.” Thankfully, Superman came back on before I was required to give her an answer.
Some nasty crud has snuck into my lungs and has me hacking, gagging, coughing, sneezing, and occasionally sniffing. It must be spring.
I don’t watch reality shows, but damn if David Cook isn’t awesome. Every week he takes some old, I’m tired of it song (Billie Jean, anyone?) and twists it and makes me sit up and go damn, wish that song was on the radio now. And if you don’t know who David Cook is, you don’t watch reality tv either, so you can just pretend you didn’t just read something here implying that maybe I have done more than flip past Fox when American Idol is on.
I almost cast a vote last night. Scary.
*(Wonder if I worded that carefully enough to keep me off the watch lists?)



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How did he like his trip to D.C.? *wg*
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