As I sit here looking out my front window, breaking my own rule by eating a bowl of homemade French onion soup in my living room - what the hey, it's my living room -
I am prone to wonder a few things.
Like, how awesome is it that my awesome child knows how to cook such awesomeness? Awesome, awesome, and awesome some more?
How many days will it be before the family stops smelling of roasted onion? I just dropped off a reeking little Cub Scout at our church building for an activity, and you know how kind and understanding other children are. Especially about someone who smells weird. He'll be OK, right?
After attending my two elementary school children's parent-teacher conferences later this week, how bad will I feel - chocolate-bad, vodka-bad or Valium-bad? (They're only tardy at least once a week.)
And lastly - I don't think this one needs explaining - are Oreos secretly made of laxatives?
I guess that's it for now. If any more wonderings cross my little pea brain, you'll be the first to know.