I have to type this fast before my kid throws up again.
I should be using my time to make cinnamon rolls since Christmas is tomorrow, but cinnamon rolls require standing, and OMG I JUST WANT TO SIT A MINUTE.
Our Christmas isn’t going according to plan.
It’s OK. Truly. I’ve been doing this parenting gig long enough that I can flex with change like a ninja. Like a superhero who can slow time to dodge machine gun fire. Like a contortionist-turned-master-thief avoiding the impenetrable grid of laser beams in the private bank vault of the nefarious (but unbelievably hot) villain. Change of plans? Yippee ki yay, mother effer. Do your worst. ...