I’m going to lure you with this innocent picture of Coco into a deranged and diagnosable seven-minute span of my day. Let’s do this.
I’d actually encourage her to take this up over the violin any day of the week.
I don’t get to spend nearly enough quality time with this part of my family, but when I do I’m reminded of the standard that has been set.
Would you look at these guys. You can practically hear the banjos dueling in the background.
Luckily no one brought up race at the dinner table, otherwise there would have been a somewhat delicious food fight.
My family’s loyalties are serious, as is the magnificent spread they cook for Thanksgiving. Not going to risk missing out.
You could make the argument that it’s ironic that I’m starting a tradition around the mission of fighting hunger when both of my kids don’t like to eat. And you’d be right.
Hear this post in your head as if I am reading it out loud while smacking my gum.
Cliché or tradition, it never hurts to take inventory of they who make my life so wonderful.
Watch your back, Gretzky.