My children are making dinner downstairs.
This note was thrust at me by my thirteen year old:
We the (last name here) munckins
request you not come downstairs
and ask no questions.
We promise not to burn down the house.
P.S. If dad calls it is for us.
Lord, help me to appreciate what concoction they make for dinner.
Help me see the humor and love behind the mess
and help me eat with a smile on my face
(and no visible gagging.)
Another new post below!