I'm anticipating the baby coming home with us today so I'm taking the easy road with today's post. I just know that when we get home with her, the kids are going to be all over her (at least the dictator will be). Plus, since we weren't expecting her for another couple weeks, I have to locate all the pump parts (the dictator likes to pretend she's a mama and plays with all that stuff and even though I've told her hundreds of times to not play with it, she doesn't listen, she's. a. dictator.)
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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