My sisters recently read some of my blog posts and told me that I am ridiculous. They are probably right, but blogging is cheaper than therapy, so here we go.
When I was younger I had these huge gapped two front teeth. I basically looked like a beaver. My parents couldn't (or as I saw it, wouldn't) afford braces. They suddenly came up with the money for their third child. Justyn and I complained relentlessly, but Dad said she was the only one worth the investment. How kind. So anyway, every night I slept with a rubber band around my two enormous front teeth. I'm no dentist, but the gap is gone, and my teeth are all a uniform size. I attribute it to sheer will mixed with a little divine intervention.
I took Caleb shopping for clothes over Christmas. It's his LEAST favorite pastime, but I decided it was time when he asked me to patch the patches in his shirts. I tried so hard to find things he liked, but he refused most of the shirts I picked out because, and I quote, "they won't look good with my lab coat." I have no idea what to do with this.
You know what phrase is an oxymoron? Urgent care. When have you ever received urgent care at an urgent care? We made a trip there the day after Christmas when Caleb had a nasty run-in with a box cutter. Either the staff were all descendants of turtles, or they were deliberately working as slowly as possible to punish us for making them work during the holidays. Four hours, four stitches, a hematoma, and a suicide inquiry later we decided that maybe next time we should try our luck with super glue.
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