So if you are looking at dying eggs for Easter like an American, you should secure some chickens that lay white eggs. Which we have. Which I’ve carefully collected this past week while beating the rat that was eating them. But it wasn’t a rat, it was a cat. A cat that isn’t ours. And we got five. Five eggs, though we also have five cats.
Minty turned five. Her friends showed up for the party despite the big two week vacation.
Three hours of princess nation elation. Zélie played the part of “doll.”
Otto played basketball and won.
After, they all ate croissants with chocolate bars to stuff inside washed downed with Coke.
Brent moved the cows and fed “the boys” (our three bulls) in his jammies.
It is an unavoidable obligation to photograph your husband if he does ManWork™ in his jammies.