My cherub-like creatures that are hell-bent on the destruction of our home and sanity.
I think others call them "children".
Bear witness to their antics, my musings, and the fecal fiascos of childhood acted out by Nora and Owen.
Nora asked about "my grandma" and I explained she was sick and resting in Oregon City. She said, "I need my backpack!" She filled her backpack with bandaids and her phone and said, "Let's go!"
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