In which we discuss matters of the family.
Scene: The family relaxes in the living room after dinner. A gastrointestinal sonic boom disturbs the peace.
Nichole: Ew! We’re going to have to get rid of the futon.
Rockford: It’s a poot-on!
In related news …
Poppy seems to have inherited her father’s gaseous fortitude (fartitude, perhaps?). We’ve been trying to get her to say “pardon me” after she has an indiscretion. It isn’t working very well. Here’s a typical call and response after such an incident:
Nichole: What do we say?
Poppy: Toot!
The firm Perry Mason worked with this summer called him this afternoon to let him know they’re offering him a job! Yay, Perry Mason! He’ll graduate in May and head South sometime thereafter. I’m so proud of him!
I don’t feel as enormous this time. And I’ve gained less weight, too (probably because we’re not close enough for daily doses of the world’s best