Last night we went on a picnic to celebrate the boys coming home from Grandma and Grandpa’s and Art finishing his horrible horrible Akkadian final of doom, despair, hopelessness, and FAIL.
I was going to write a witty post about how the pictures show these sweet wonderful kids being, well, sweet and wonderful and adorable, and how the reality was not exactly like that, but my so-called wit was sounding more like crotchety old-lady snark, so I decided to post the pictures and we can all pretend that this picnic was a lovely peaceful family bonding experience and that we did not come home and pack the kids away to bed as fast as possible before Mommy blew her final gasket. (how did you like that little run-on sentence?)
Maybe it’s better that way.
But you know the truth.
Ah, yes. Aren’t they just sweet and wonderful?
Look at this adorable little boy!
How sweet! How innocent! How completely unlike reality darling!
Clearly this one is our problem child.
Sweet, sweet family time. How I love you. For without you, I would never appreciate bedtime like I should.