Damn You, Netflix…You’re Making Me Creepy


(Yet another text conversation gone wrong.)

Ryan: There’s nothing like the smell of spring practice.  The dead grass…the ridiculous parental expectations.

Me: Has any one talked, yet, about the time they “went to state”?

Ryan: Fortunately, those parents are all at Pop Warner.  There actually aren’t that many parents here.  It’s quiet.  Too quiet…

Me: Ruh Roh.  That’s how it always is right before someone trips over what they think is a helmet, and it turns out to be a severed human head.

Ryan: Megan…

Me: Yes…

Ryan: Stop binge watching Bones.  Immediately.

Little Brothers…Pissing Big Sisters Off Since 4,000,000 B.C.



(My 11-year-old twins and I are sitting in the parking lot, waiting to pick their sister up from the Freshman football game. A teenage boy walks her out to the gate, hugs her, and then she gets in the car.)

*deafening silence*

Xavier: “So…..tell me about your young man.”