I am busily tracing and cutting out 23 paper Pilgrim collars for The Kid's Thanksgiving reenactment. He is playing the part of John Carver. He and his classmates are Pilgrims; the other first grade class are Indians.
I'm working on butcher paper spread out over the living room and dining room floors, crawling around on my hands and knees, hunching over the collar pattern. My back is aching, my knees are throbbing. I am cursing the Pilgrims and their ridiculous collars.
And then The Kid walks over, checks my progress, pats my back, and tells me I'm doing a real good job.
Bonjour: Paris Surrounds
1 day ago