This morning, all the Bandas boys and I took a walk through our neighborhood. Well, more specifically, He and I walked while Oliver booked it around us in circles on his “four-wheeler” (that’s what he calls his bike with training wheels) and Archie scooted around on his yellow and red, Fischer Price toddler bike.
Nothing extraordinary happened. We ate clementines and fruit strips in the shade and swatted at errant mosquitos. We checked out some pretty rockin’ pollinators in our neighbors’ butterfly garden and laughed at Archie’s new, silly, booty-shaking dance.
Now, the boys are sleeping and I’m laying on the couch eating Trader Joe’s chocolate covered almonds and flipping between Keeping Up with the Kardashians and The Real Housewives of Orange County.
Pinch me. I’m dreaming.
As I lay here, soaking in the perfection that was this morning, juxtaposed against the absolute filth I’m exposing my brain to via the good people at E! and Bravo, I am convinced of exactly two things.
Extra long acrylic nails are disgusting and anyone over fifteen who says the word “hashtag” literally, should stop doing that. #Likenow.
That’s it. No big, life revelations. No words of wisdom. Just a girl, laying in front of a TV, asking it why she can’t look away.
(And secretly knowing it’s because these shows are AMAZING and she would watch them all day, every day if she could, but shoot, now He’s home again and she has to at least feign an attempt to go to the gym.)