To Grandmother’s House We Go

I absolutely love this blogger! This is a great read. She turns the every day happens into one fantastic read that leaves you wanting to be able to write like her!


For the children, Grandma and Grandpa are second only to Santa Claus for an easy mark. A trip to Grandma’s house is like going to Toys R Us, getting a shopping cart and having five minutes to grab whatever you want. Plus, Grandma has cool stuff, like a piano (upon which to pound) a set of handbells (still jangling in my head) and hundreds of delicate glass, china, and porcelain baubles to be examined (dropped) and adored (dropped).

Oh no, Great Grandma's priceless King Ugly Baby statue? That's a shame. Oh no… Someone broke Great Grandma’s irreplaceable King Ugly Baby statue… That’s a shame.

They’re psyched.

By the evening of our second day fighting the good fight to keep my mother’s museum-quality-historical-society-pristine-child-free-for-most-of-the-year home safe from the hedonistic joy of two newly spoiled children had me exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that when K was sent to bed early (early bedtime: consequence for having categorically decried her Grandmother’s homemade cooking as “nasty” and…

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