Today we ventured on a much needed family outing, just the four of us. We loaded up the "I can hold two kids having a meltdown while you look around for a drink" stroller and headed to Minnetrista for Trista Day. They had fire trucks, police cruisers, police horses, the ambulance, etc. Oh did Monkey Boy love this place. He climbed in a fire truck, a tractor (which he kept calling a Caterpillar but alas, it was a yellow John Deere tractor. I would be confused too. Aren't they all green? Of course now I go look at the page and dammit, there are a couple yellow ones. Pahshaw.) and the ponies? Oh yes, I was a mean mommy and put each of my kids on one even though they cried because I wanted them to at least experience it. Peanut did not like it one little bit. Monkey Boy cried until he tried to get down and then of course, decided he loved the pony. There was a line of kids waiting so there was the major meltdown of the day that led to the bribing with mass quantities of rollipops (lollipops) and balloons. We're not beneath bribery. It's our friend. The Waste Management guys were there and that's where we spent a good 22-28 minutes because the boy loves the green trucks. A lot. He would have lived in the bounce house if they let him. I don't think it's legal to have as much fun as that boy did when he was in there jumping all over. It was so much fun to watch, tiring, but fun. Peanut went in a fire truck as well but was more interested in the free popcorn and hotdogs. She has priorities ya know.
I haven't blogged in 8 months. We bought a house, still unpacking, school started. You know, life. I felt the need, the urgent need to blog about the Adrian Peterson situation today. I am full of all sorts of feelings and had to write about it. I would love to hear your thoughts on this whole thing. No really, I would. I don't feel I was a douchebag in my writing so all I ask is you not be a douchebag in your response. Thanks. My thoughts on the Adrian Peterson situation (but first, some backstory): I was spanked as a child. I'm pretty sure most of us that grew up in the 80s were. Until the summer between 5th and 6th grade I lived in Charelston, SC and from 6th to 11th grade, North Chicaco, IL. I have seen every form of discipline doled out on a child. I've seen spankings, beatings, hairbrushes smacked into heads, spoons hitting the tops of heads, whips, belts and even switches. I've seen it all. Most of you know that my son is named after a little boy who
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