The Booby Prize
by“Why can’t I be a trophy husband?” I asked the kids as the family sat around playing boardgames over Christmas.
“Why can’t I be a trophy husband?” I asked the kids as the family sat around playing boardgames over Christmas.
Who doesn’t like to hear their kids playing well together? It makes me think maybe – just maybe – I’ve done something right. Not so much this time though…
Money has become a problem for me this week.
One of my daughters is worried because she thinks a mistake has been made. She’s right. She’s just wrong about the why.
Name something that has a chef. I bet you can’t. Nope, you’re wrong. Guarantee it. But don’t be too hard on yourself, we were too.
“Cats always land on their feet,” Miss4 informed me, before turning back to the screen. See! I’m virtually home schooling already.
Is it just me, or do other husbands try to sneak things past their wives?
The only trouble with TICTACS is you can’t buy yourself a box and then keep it a secret. Not that I intended to…
“I spy with my little eye something beginning with……S!” said Master8. The answer was shed, the doors of which were the only thing visible through the front windscreen. We hadn’t left yet.
My father-in-law is not a man to play games. Monopoly would be a complete mystery to him. So when he opened the door with “Tag!” I was a little confused.