This is how my Peanut is all the time. But especially when Mama is laying on the kitchen floor, taking pictures and gets stuck. The baby belly makes it hard to be graceful anymore. (Oh who am I kidding? The doc is pretty sure I broke my toe last week when I fell in the kitchen. The same toe I broke in Spring of '08. Yes, Grace is not my middle name.) Peanut wanted to climb on my legs and have me hoist her in the air, jostling her all over. A feat that is easy to do when a) you're on carpeting, b) not pregnant and c) not holding a super expensive camera that if dropped, could send Mama into therapy for at least a year. Anyway, we had fun.
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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