You’ve got to read this. You have to. It’s funny. It’s perfect.
I love you each.
You’re funny. And talented. But as I sit in this dance recital I am holding a foster baby that is in our home for the weekend and I am witnessing an American atrocity that I want you to remember.
And it is not a drug addicted baby.
In the row ahead of me a family has taken hot pink duct tape and marked off 22 seats. We were specifically told not to do this at the informational meeting. Please, always follow the rules. They count off “new-naw, pawpaw, auntie Laurie, auntie Bitsy, Carl-baby, daddy, bubba, Unkie-Mikie, hankie…” These nicknames, while odd are also not the issue, but don’t nickname me when I am old. It’s getting embarrassing.
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