Caroline was riding around on her scooter and came to a stop right next to me.
She said, “Emily and I are in our very own club. You can’t be in our club.”
“Because it’s a club for four year olds and you’re not four.”
And since I am very, very mature and have read many parenting books chockfull of parenting wisdom, I said, “Well, that’s fine. Daddy and I have our very own grown-up club.”
P piped up from where he lay dying in the bedroom and said, “That’s right, it’s called MARRIAGE and there’s no escape. It’s like being part of a street gang.”
If I had been drinking anything I would have had a perfect spit-take.
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