We took Wm to the pool this weekend where he demonstrated all the time/money spent on swim lessons was a big waste. He clung to the side and refused to have any fun. We left after barely an hour. I swear, I am about to toss his butt into the deep and end and scream, "SINK OR SWIM, BUDDY!"
However, I am in a much better mood after realizing (despite the fact it SEEMS like it was only yesterday), my wedding pictures are nearly 15 years old. In another 15 years, I'll be 50 years old. I do not anticipate looking the same at 50 as I do today - in fact, that may be sort of creepy. So, why would I expect to look the same at 35 as I did at 21? Reeeee-diculous. I blame the patriarchal society we live in for Wm's attitudes. I will have to start reading feminist literature to him before bed.
I just listened to a hilarious comedy bit on camping. It cracks me up because Steve loves himself some camping and he has gone 0 times in the last 17 years since I won't go. His big hopes of having a camping buddy/son were also foiled when I birthed Mini-Cory who also refuses to go. But, this pretty much sums up why camping is THE WORST:
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