After delivering Peanut, her cousin and a friend to horse camp this morning, Bug and I made a quick stop at the library and headed home for some quiet time in the house sans girls (well, except for me).
We fired up the laptop and DVD player and settled in for 80 minutes of realizing that we, in fact, have not memorized all of the seven-letter words in the Scrabble dictionary, still use mostly 2-4 letter words when we play, and have lives outside of words, timers and tiles. Thank GOD!
There are some clinically insane folks out there on the Scrabble circuit. I think one guy out of the bunch actually had a regularly paying job: a night-guard. The rest were examples of our tax dollars hard at work. Perhaps I should look into this as my next career. I'm just not sure I have it in me.
*Bug came up with this title, stolen shamelessly from Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. I know, stellar parenting on our part. We're trying to lower his IQ. It's our only hope.