Being the parent of three young men--two post-puberty and one in the midst thereof--is never dull. Or cheap. These guys are reincarnated horses. Open the refrigerator door and inhale. Repeat until said fridge is empty. That usually takes about a day. Ditto for the pantry. I've worn a groove in the road to the grocery store and am on a first name basis with most of the cashiers. The guys at the deli counter laugh when they see me. "What?" they ask, "Only three pounds of ham this time?" I sigh and slowly wheel my wagon train to the checkout. Unloading takes awhile. "You MUST have kids," the lady behind me comments. "No," I reply whilst rubbing my aching arms, "I have Clydesdales." Cue weird look.
My guys do help me unload the family truckster....eagerly. "Where's the Skittles?!" roars my youngest as he dives into one bag after another. He has to fight off the other two looking for their own buried treasure. I sigh as I watch the carnage and vow for the upteenth time to buy a horse trough and just dump the load of groceries...bags n' all...inside. Then I smile. These guys are big....and Budweiser just might be interested.
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