Including three small boys, a marker pen and one unhappy mom; a mechanical iris window shade; ancient tape recorders; an attempt to help that doesn’t quite go to plan; and the kind of thing you don’t want to find up your nose.
Including three small boys, a marker pen and one unhappy mom; a mechanical iris window shade; ancient tape recorders; an attempt to help that doesn’t quite go to plan; and the kind of thing you don’t want to find up your nose.
Ah yes, the weekly “please come to my site.”
Sorry David, I don’t like your approach. I hope it works well for you, and that you get enough following to earn a living at it, but your style doesn’t work for me.
I won’t click on any links to twitter and encourage everyone not to. Deny them any traffic.
The piece of bread falling over is bit like our loss of freedom, nothing was done to stop it, It took awhile but fell over without a push.
I remember something I read in an old Ann Landers column many years ago: the upper crust is just a bunch of crumbs held together by a lot of dough.
That brought back memories of my boys turning themselves into human art canvases. At least these three did it with washable markers. Mine did it with Sharpies.
And I hope your response was what – I am told – was mine back in the day: “Go play in the traffic”. Offspring has been passing it on to friends who are parents; they love it.
These weren’t up to the usual standards. B-o-o-o-o-r-r-r-r-i-i-i-in-n-n-n-g-g-g