If you are asking me to shave your pussy then I accept.
I pondered the great irony that so far our trips have turned into fiascos because the same kid had to take a shit.
I guess I should continue cultivating a little mystery around my shirtless dinner parties, even though they aren’t exactly my idea .
I read a parenting book that said when you are overwhelmed with your own kids, just invite a few more over and it will make it easier. I was all, bitch please.
As the night wore on and I got more drunk I asked some question that I can’t remember and Loony answered, “It might be the panda.”
The fleeting and impermanent nature of this trip wasn’t lost on me. I tried to impress on my boys that they should stop and consider that one day these glaciers will be gone and they will be able to say they saw them in person, that they saw them calve into the bay, skipped stones at icebergs, and regarded the mineral blue of the glacial ice that is unlike any blue we’ve ever seen; that children might ask them what it was like.