The Only Bunt We Want is Cake
It’s July in Texas. The temperature is over 100 degrees by 10am. And we signed our children up for Saturday summer t-ball, because we hate ourselves.
The Clavicle that Broke Summer
A few years ago, Taylor and I went on The Week-Long Beach Vacation from Hell. (That’s not fair, actually. The first day was great, so really it was The Six-Day Beach Vacation From Hell.) I reference this trip often because it was, like, so bad. Least of all colossal fails was 8 month old Davis breaking his collarbone back at home. I found out over a spotty FaceTime connection, only catching every other word. “took a fall….maybe broken….x-rays….urgent care” You might think this is a once-in-a-childhood event, breaking a collarbone while your parents are far, far away. I’m sure for normal families it is, but we typically don’t do normal.