And so it goes

My children.

My children?

My children.  Fuck, man.  I have two kids, for whose lives I am responsible.  My kid are hilarious.  I spent the day dragging Evie around from the clinic (due to a ridiculous UTI that can't seem to keep it's distance) to the farmer's market while Mike had Layla at the Walking With Dinosaurs exhibit that cost a small fortune playing here all the way from Australia.

Yep,  I have another UTI.  Perhaps due to long bike rides.  Perhaps due to crotch rot, just because.  Whatever.  Either way I'm sucking antibiotics like they are candy.  And I hate antibiotics.

Mike had Layla with him at the dinosaur show, and she loved it.  What a funny little kid.  She can't stand getting yelled at, but the little shit will scale mountains to ensure the safe return of some random bug from our house to the outside.  Or can sit through hours of scary 3-D images of dinosaurs  to be unnerved only by the scene where a meteor strikes the earth and wipes them out.

Sap.

"Guys!  Hey guys!  Nobody move.  I need to catch this bug and let it go outside.  Mama, open the door so I can let him go back to his family".

I have one kid saving the world one bug at at time, and the other kid dancing to any Dave Matthews/Jason Mraz/Jack Johnson album like her life depended on it.  I can't wait to know them in 15 years.

Please don't let us fuck them up too much.