I am pretty sure it can be considered official: Wesley is a baby genius. You might wonder what makes this official and the answer should be obvious: I have declared it. But honestly, you can have conversations with the kid. I woke him up the other day and asked him for a hug and he told me "no, breakfast." (Typical male behavior, food before affection). But, knowing that it may eventually yield me the coveted hug, I said "Ok, Wes, what do you want for breakfast?" to which he replied "pop-tart.". I know what you are all thinking - genius, right? I mean c'mon - the kid is 22 months old and asking for empty carbs? Soon he will be composing poetry and learning to play the guitar all while calculating actuarial tables. I love all my kids equally, but I also compare them to one another and when you look at the fact that Ben didn't say a word until he was 2 1/2 and still answers the question "What are you doing?" with "Good" - you have to admit that Wes's conversational skills are amazing.
In other (non-genius) news, Maddie turned five last week. She had a great birthday, got to be star of the week at school, basically basked in the attention. Then, Monday, we were going to gymnastics and she said (out of the blue). "Mom, I just thought my life would change when I turned five." I laughed, then asked her "Why do you say that?" and she said "Well, did your life change when you were five?" and I told her not that I remembered - what was she hoping for? She said "I don't know, I just thought that maybe I wouldn't like to play with dolls anymore, and I still do. That is weird, huh?" My kids never cease to crack me up.
Zach has been going through a pretty clingy mommy stage. Not sure what is prompting that, because I obviously give the kid whatever he wants and lavish him with attention whenever I can telling him how handsome, intelligent, witty and super-awesome he is...that's not wrong, right? Lately when I leave him he has taken to wailing "Mommy, don't leave me...I just like you...I just want to spend all day with you...". Oh sweetie, mom loves you to, but not enough to spend all day, every day with you.
I better do a quick Ben update as well, so that he doesn't feel left out. SPOILER ALERT...do not read this to your kids if they still believe in the Tooth Fairy....so, Ben lost a tooth a couple of weeks ago and it happened at school with me not having to do anything about it (for those of you knowing my aversion to teeth, you know what a blessing this is). So, he was so excited to leave it for the tooth fairy. Well, that night Wesley had croup and Matt and I took turns sleeping on the floor by him, then I got up bright and early to leave for a trip...at about 9 am it hit me - We forgot to be the tooth fairy! Bad, bad parents. So, I told Matt to leave a note the next night from the Tooth Fairy telling Ben that since it was his first tooth, the Fairy wanted to give him some more time to show it off to everyone...and to leave him $2. That should buy him off. Good, good parents. Then, a few days later, Ben was telling me that his other bottom tooth was wiggly. I asked him the next day how it was and he said, "Hmmm, not that wiggly anymore." I asked him if I could see and it turns out the tooth was gone - he had swallowed it at some point. I'm glad the Tooth Fairy of our household does not require actual, physical evidence of tooth loss, because there was no way I was going in after that...
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Crying, Puking, and Suburbans...oh my!
So, very seldomly do Matt and I have to discuss our parenting styles. In fact, our typical conversations as it relates to parenting basically has us patting each other on the back about how great of parents we are and how everyone else could really take a hint or two from our play book. But, once in a great while, such topics do come up. Recently, we have been talking about (okay, I have been talking about) how Matt can maybeee be a wee bit harsh on the kids. The whole time, I'm sure he has been thinking that maybeee I'm a wee bit soft on those same precious angels. A little backstory:
Ben has (since his second day of kindergarten a.k.a. "I'm not getting on that freaking bus" day) a little bit of anxiety when it comes to a lot of things - including going to school, having sleepovers, going to a tee-ball game - basically just about anything. This anxiety comes in the form of a "tummy ache" often accompanied by crying and screaming so convincing that the first time he did it I was certain he had appendicitis. By now, I'm used to his tricks. However, Tuesday of this week, Maddie had just puked all over the living room (awesome) and Ben was scheduled to be leaving for his first flag football practice. Of course, there is some crying about how his tummy hurts. By no means were we forcing him to go this practice (I'm not that cruel) - we had asked him several times if he felt good enough to go and he wanted to go - although he would start to tear up and whimper.
So, he's going out the door, a little teary eyed, when Matt sort of grumbles about how he needs to grow up and get over it. I tell him, he does not need to grow up, he is six and that he better not be mean to my precious little boy. I get the obligatory eye roll as I'm sure Matt is thinking in his head, oh good God this woman is going to be feeding me the same line when we are dropping him off at his dorm room as they get loaded up to go (in Matt's newest baby - his Suburban).
A few minutes later they are back and Ben is announcing that he just puked. "Where is it exactly that you puked Ben, please, pretell". "In Dad's car," he replies.
Sweet justice, I was thinking. He deserved that for being mean to my baby and not believing him when he said he was sick! Matt came in and in much better spirits than I would have been, proceeded to clean out his car and I spent a few glorious days reveling in how, although Matt and I are a super team, this what a true picture of how I really know my $hit.
Then comes Friday. Matt leaves for Chicago for a long-awaited, well-deserved trip with friends to Chicago for a Cubs game and of course, the start of the Hawkeye football season. And I wake up with four kids to myself and a heinous stomach flu. Guess I should have seen that coming - I deserved it.
Ben has (since his second day of kindergarten a.k.a. "I'm not getting on that freaking bus" day) a little bit of anxiety when it comes to a lot of things - including going to school, having sleepovers, going to a tee-ball game - basically just about anything. This anxiety comes in the form of a "tummy ache" often accompanied by crying and screaming so convincing that the first time he did it I was certain he had appendicitis. By now, I'm used to his tricks. However, Tuesday of this week, Maddie had just puked all over the living room (awesome) and Ben was scheduled to be leaving for his first flag football practice. Of course, there is some crying about how his tummy hurts. By no means were we forcing him to go this practice (I'm not that cruel) - we had asked him several times if he felt good enough to go and he wanted to go - although he would start to tear up and whimper.
So, he's going out the door, a little teary eyed, when Matt sort of grumbles about how he needs to grow up and get over it. I tell him, he does not need to grow up, he is six and that he better not be mean to my precious little boy. I get the obligatory eye roll as I'm sure Matt is thinking in his head, oh good God this woman is going to be feeding me the same line when we are dropping him off at his dorm room as they get loaded up to go (in Matt's newest baby - his Suburban).
A few minutes later they are back and Ben is announcing that he just puked. "Where is it exactly that you puked Ben, please, pretell". "In Dad's car," he replies.
Sweet justice, I was thinking. He deserved that for being mean to my baby and not believing him when he said he was sick! Matt came in and in much better spirits than I would have been, proceeded to clean out his car and I spent a few glorious days reveling in how, although Matt and I are a super team, this what a true picture of how I really know my $hit.
Then comes Friday. Matt leaves for Chicago for a long-awaited, well-deserved trip with friends to Chicago for a Cubs game and of course, the start of the Hawkeye football season. And I wake up with four kids to myself and a heinous stomach flu. Guess I should have seen that coming - I deserved it.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Warning: Not My Normal Pithy Witticisms
Okay, so I'm not even sure if "witticism" is a word, but I wanted to give you guys a heads up that this entry is not going to be the same hilarious stuff I usually write about my kids - although I will throw in a story about Ben at the end, just because it is funny. I always say that I can't write until I'm inspired to write, but today I was inspired.
I am lucky enough to be able to attend the Global Leadership Conference that is being hosted by WCA today and tomorrow at numerous satellite churches around the country and globe. But, that isn't what I'm going to write about (well, at least not entirely) - it is just providing context as to why I was at a table for lunch today with four complete strangers and two people who I know, but not as, let's say, BFFs.
Sooooo, we were discussing the morning session when one lady turned to another lady and asked, "do you work outside the home?" I don't know why, but this has been turning around in my head in all sorts of contexts today. I'm not even sure where I want to start. Let me start with the petty, then move to the profound (at least as profound as I get - which isn't really that profound).
If I was the type to take offense, which most anyone who knows me, knows that I am pretty hard to offend, BUT, if I was the type, which should I find more offensive: the fact that you would never ask a man if "they worked outside the home" or that you are incredulous enough to believe that I would entrust my four loving little children to someone else for care and nurturing during these obviously formative years? I know that many people have very strong opinions that either A. a woman is entitled to contribute to society in the work force (kids be damned) or B. once you have kids, the most important thing you can do for your kids is to stay home and raise them (career be damned).
Then I got to thinking how unbelievably, undeniably blessed I am. I get to do both. And I feel pretty strongly about both of them. I can contribute to society, use the smarts and skills God blessed me with and get the heck away from my kids a few days a week and then I can roll around with my kids, take them to swimming lessons and get the heck away from the office a few days a week. It is the best of both worlds and I just wanted to rub it in to everyone how awesome it is.
So, there are two distinct mornings at my house: the mornings mom has to go to work (i.e. shower) and the mornings mom doesn't have to go to work. Recently, on a non-work morning Ben came into my room, looked at me and said (with obvious disdain and disgust): "Mom, why do you always look like that when you don't go to work?" He was noting my ever constant ponytail, thick elastic waistband shorts and gym t-shirt with flip flops signature look, I think. And I said (not taking the bait of asking him innocently...like what? As I am sure he would have replied with something like "a slobby loser") "How do you want me to look, Ben?" "Like a pretty princess." "Hmmmm, and how would I go about looking like a pretty princess?" "Duh (insert eye roll) put on one of your princess gowns. Ugh" (insert exasperated sigh and unsaid comment of, Mom - Maddie can pull it together with some sort of sequin and tulle every day - and she's only four - what is your excuse?")
And those, my friends, are the days I am so grateful to have an office to go the next day.
I am lucky enough to be able to attend the Global Leadership Conference that is being hosted by WCA today and tomorrow at numerous satellite churches around the country and globe. But, that isn't what I'm going to write about (well, at least not entirely) - it is just providing context as to why I was at a table for lunch today with four complete strangers and two people who I know, but not as, let's say, BFFs.
Sooooo, we were discussing the morning session when one lady turned to another lady and asked, "do you work outside the home?" I don't know why, but this has been turning around in my head in all sorts of contexts today. I'm not even sure where I want to start. Let me start with the petty, then move to the profound (at least as profound as I get - which isn't really that profound).
If I was the type to take offense, which most anyone who knows me, knows that I am pretty hard to offend, BUT, if I was the type, which should I find more offensive: the fact that you would never ask a man if "they worked outside the home" or that you are incredulous enough to believe that I would entrust my four loving little children to someone else for care and nurturing during these obviously formative years? I know that many people have very strong opinions that either A. a woman is entitled to contribute to society in the work force (kids be damned) or B. once you have kids, the most important thing you can do for your kids is to stay home and raise them (career be damned).
Then I got to thinking how unbelievably, undeniably blessed I am. I get to do both. And I feel pretty strongly about both of them. I can contribute to society, use the smarts and skills God blessed me with and get the heck away from my kids a few days a week and then I can roll around with my kids, take them to swimming lessons and get the heck away from the office a few days a week. It is the best of both worlds and I just wanted to rub it in to everyone how awesome it is.
So, there are two distinct mornings at my house: the mornings mom has to go to work (i.e. shower) and the mornings mom doesn't have to go to work. Recently, on a non-work morning Ben came into my room, looked at me and said (with obvious disdain and disgust): "Mom, why do you always look like that when you don't go to work?" He was noting my ever constant ponytail, thick elastic waistband shorts and gym t-shirt with flip flops signature look, I think. And I said (not taking the bait of asking him innocently...like what? As I am sure he would have replied with something like "a slobby loser") "How do you want me to look, Ben?" "Like a pretty princess." "Hmmmm, and how would I go about looking like a pretty princess?" "Duh (insert eye roll) put on one of your princess gowns. Ugh" (insert exasperated sigh and unsaid comment of, Mom - Maddie can pull it together with some sort of sequin and tulle every day - and she's only four - what is your excuse?")
And those, my friends, are the days I am so grateful to have an office to go the next day.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Genuis Parenting
Here's the deal: I'm not a very good parent. What I am, is a pretty good actress. So, when the curtain goes up and I'm not prepared, that is always a bad moment. I've had a couple of these lately. Let me set the stage: Saturday morning, gorgeous day. About 9 am, birds are chirping, rainbows are shining, etc., etc. I am cleaning up from a delicious homemade breakfast (cereal) and encourage the little children to go outside and get some fresh air. As I take out our empty milk jug to the recycling (because of course, we are also a green family) I look over and see Zachary punching Wesley. And I launch. Hard. Seriously, I have already had 40 minutes with these little beasts and my buttons have all been pushed. I scream at him so loud that it honestly hurt my throat for the next 40 minutes, yank him by the arm to come sit on the steps in timeout and then look to see the damage he inflicted. As I look up for the first time I make eye contact with about three sets of neighbors and all of the random strangers in my neighborhood as apparently it is garage sale day and I am on center stage. Awesome. Love it when people not only see me launch, but see me launch in my grungy pajamas. And......scene.
However, for every horrifyingly embarrassing moment (like when I went inside for two seconds and came back out to see Wesley standing in the middle of the street laughing at me while some of the same neighbors probably wondered who let the 18-month go unsupervised for even one second) I have (what I believe) to be a stroke of genius. Ben has been having some serious attitude issues lately (which Zach then thinks is hilarious to mock. I'm pretty sure he thinks my name has been changed to Stupid Mommy). So, tonight, I asked him to get out of the bath, get his pajamas on and keep an eye on his brother Wes who was locked in his room. He proceeds to get out of the bath, go into his bedroom and then go all Magic Mike on his brother, because when isn't a naked dance hilarious? I wasn't so mad about the dancing, it was more the non-listening (although eventually he has to learn about the non-dancing, too). So, I told him that the movie he was planning to watch for the night was cancelled (knowing full well I wouldn't go through with it, because how else does one find time to blog unless they park their kids in front of a movie?) I let him scream for a while and think that I wasn't going to let him come down and then I saw it: his uneaten (as usual) vegetables for dinner. I told him to come down, asked him if he wanted to watch the movie (yes!) and said, then sit there and eat those vegetables and when they are gone, I will start the movie. Funny how corn started to look sort of appetizing. Feel free to use this technique at home. And I will continue to pretend to be a good mom:)
However, for every horrifyingly embarrassing moment (like when I went inside for two seconds and came back out to see Wesley standing in the middle of the street laughing at me while some of the same neighbors probably wondered who let the 18-month go unsupervised for even one second) I have (what I believe) to be a stroke of genius. Ben has been having some serious attitude issues lately (which Zach then thinks is hilarious to mock. I'm pretty sure he thinks my name has been changed to Stupid Mommy). So, tonight, I asked him to get out of the bath, get his pajamas on and keep an eye on his brother Wes who was locked in his room. He proceeds to get out of the bath, go into his bedroom and then go all Magic Mike on his brother, because when isn't a naked dance hilarious? I wasn't so mad about the dancing, it was more the non-listening (although eventually he has to learn about the non-dancing, too). So, I told him that the movie he was planning to watch for the night was cancelled (knowing full well I wouldn't go through with it, because how else does one find time to blog unless they park their kids in front of a movie?) I let him scream for a while and think that I wasn't going to let him come down and then I saw it: his uneaten (as usual) vegetables for dinner. I told him to come down, asked him if he wanted to watch the movie (yes!) and said, then sit there and eat those vegetables and when they are gone, I will start the movie. Funny how corn started to look sort of appetizing. Feel free to use this technique at home. And I will continue to pretend to be a good mom:)
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Happy Father's Day
So, I am very lucky in the fact that I have great guys in my life and would be remiss if I didn't at least mention them on Father's Day. Of course, I should probably start with the father of my children, Matt - without him, we wouldn't have the crazy, ridiculous litter of children we call our family (or do you start with my dad, because without him, I wouldn't be possible OR do you start with his dad, my grandpa because without him, my dad wouldn't be possible therefore making me not possible...). Well, my executive decision is to start with my husband.
Matt is an amazing father. He is involved and hands-on with all of our kids, even in the tiny tiny baby years where a lot of guys look at their children more as small creatures that they could break and should probably not be trusted to handle. He is willing to take on all four kids when I need some time away without hesitation. He supports us and leads our family in a way that I admire and am in awe of. Yesterday, he took Zach and Ben golfing (after dropping off Maddie at a play date) while Wes was napping and I had three hours of uninterrupted quiet bliss. Of course, I used it to clean the kids' rooms, which was sort of ridiculous, but I think I could have been peeling wallpaper and would have enjoyed it because it was by myself with no one demanding anything of me. Thank you Matt, for being so amazing.
Then there is my dad - my dad and I have always gotten along swimmingly. He is a simple guy that takes life for what it is. He isn't easily flustered and always has time to give the kids a ride on the golf cart. He was a great guy to have around growing up and I'm excited for the time my kids will get to spend with him. They love visiting grandpa's house (granted, that may be for the four-wheeler and golf cart - although Grandpa comes as sort of an added bonus).
Then you have my two brothers - one a dad, one a great uncle to his six neices and nephews. My brothers and I fought A LOT growing up and I see so much of our relationship in my kids. The stupid bickering, the ganging up on each other, the constant fighting (sounds lovely, right?). But, then I look at how much I enjoy hanging out with my brothers now and am excited that my kids will have three of their best friends around always, because they are family.
Then you have my three boys. Ben with his sweet nature, Zach with his sarcastic nature and Wes with his spitfire nature. I am starting to realize that I am totally outnumbered by dudes. But at least they are all pretty decent dudes. The other night, Zach climbed into bed with us (there was a monster in his bed you know) and I told him, Zach, this bed is not made for three people. He looked at me sweetly and said, "Well, then you better get out.". Ah, with men like this in my life, what else can a girl ask for!
Matt is an amazing father. He is involved and hands-on with all of our kids, even in the tiny tiny baby years where a lot of guys look at their children more as small creatures that they could break and should probably not be trusted to handle. He is willing to take on all four kids when I need some time away without hesitation. He supports us and leads our family in a way that I admire and am in awe of. Yesterday, he took Zach and Ben golfing (after dropping off Maddie at a play date) while Wes was napping and I had three hours of uninterrupted quiet bliss. Of course, I used it to clean the kids' rooms, which was sort of ridiculous, but I think I could have been peeling wallpaper and would have enjoyed it because it was by myself with no one demanding anything of me. Thank you Matt, for being so amazing.
Then there is my dad - my dad and I have always gotten along swimmingly. He is a simple guy that takes life for what it is. He isn't easily flustered and always has time to give the kids a ride on the golf cart. He was a great guy to have around growing up and I'm excited for the time my kids will get to spend with him. They love visiting grandpa's house (granted, that may be for the four-wheeler and golf cart - although Grandpa comes as sort of an added bonus).
Then you have my two brothers - one a dad, one a great uncle to his six neices and nephews. My brothers and I fought A LOT growing up and I see so much of our relationship in my kids. The stupid bickering, the ganging up on each other, the constant fighting (sounds lovely, right?). But, then I look at how much I enjoy hanging out with my brothers now and am excited that my kids will have three of their best friends around always, because they are family.
Then you have my three boys. Ben with his sweet nature, Zach with his sarcastic nature and Wes with his spitfire nature. I am starting to realize that I am totally outnumbered by dudes. But at least they are all pretty decent dudes. The other night, Zach climbed into bed with us (there was a monster in his bed you know) and I told him, Zach, this bed is not made for three people. He looked at me sweetly and said, "Well, then you better get out.". Ah, with men like this in my life, what else can a girl ask for!
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
How Did I Ever Have Friends?
Okay, so over the last few months, I have become very aware of an annoying trait that I (and other people in my family) may possibly possess. Turns out, I'm a loud talker. Who knew? Well, I'm guessing pretty much everyone I have ever known knows, but I had no idea. Perhaps I'm a little hard of hearing or something.
The reason this has become so glaringly obvious to me is lately we have been trying to teach Zachary the difference between indoor and outdoor voices. Turns out, he has only an outdoor voice and beyond that, apparently so do I. It is really crazy annoying. I'm not sure how anyone hangs out with me and to all of my friends that have hung in there for me, thank you. I'm so grateful that you want to still associate with me with the potential damage I have done and continue to do to your eardrums.
So Zach recently went on a shopping trip with some friends to Target and even his three year old friend had to tell him to tone it down a bit. The kid is amazingly loud. And amazingly neurotic. We are really struggling with him right now - not only with his noise level but also his ability to freak out about pretty much anything: He can't get his shirt off, he can't turn on the water, his sister looked at him, his seat belt is stuck, you get the picture. I have taken to calmly telling him to calm down, it's not that big of a deal which is met with one of the following responses (at an amazing decibel, usually in some sort of enclosed space that makes the sound even further resonate): "I can't talk normally!" "Don't tell me to calm down - that is a naughty word!" "It is stupid - goll dangit!" The other bad thing about this trait in Zach is that you never really know what is going to come out of his mouth. It could be something amazingly clever or witty, but often it is something amazingly clever and inappropriate.
If I will warn my kids of one thing, it is that God has an amazing sense of humor and a way to craftily work some karmic retribution in little ways in my children (and therefore, the same will be true for their children). Zach is obviously pay back for all of my friends and family that has put up with my super loud voice over the last 33 years. By the way, I am now incredibly self conscious, so if you are talking to me on the phone and I suddenly drop the noise level, it is because I just remembered that I don't have to shout at you.
The reason this has become so glaringly obvious to me is lately we have been trying to teach Zachary the difference between indoor and outdoor voices. Turns out, he has only an outdoor voice and beyond that, apparently so do I. It is really crazy annoying. I'm not sure how anyone hangs out with me and to all of my friends that have hung in there for me, thank you. I'm so grateful that you want to still associate with me with the potential damage I have done and continue to do to your eardrums.
So Zach recently went on a shopping trip with some friends to Target and even his three year old friend had to tell him to tone it down a bit. The kid is amazingly loud. And amazingly neurotic. We are really struggling with him right now - not only with his noise level but also his ability to freak out about pretty much anything: He can't get his shirt off, he can't turn on the water, his sister looked at him, his seat belt is stuck, you get the picture. I have taken to calmly telling him to calm down, it's not that big of a deal which is met with one of the following responses (at an amazing decibel, usually in some sort of enclosed space that makes the sound even further resonate): "I can't talk normally!" "Don't tell me to calm down - that is a naughty word!" "It is stupid - goll dangit!" The other bad thing about this trait in Zach is that you never really know what is going to come out of his mouth. It could be something amazingly clever or witty, but often it is something amazingly clever and inappropriate.
If I will warn my kids of one thing, it is that God has an amazing sense of humor and a way to craftily work some karmic retribution in little ways in my children (and therefore, the same will be true for their children). Zach is obviously pay back for all of my friends and family that has put up with my super loud voice over the last 33 years. By the way, I am now incredibly self conscious, so if you are talking to me on the phone and I suddenly drop the noise level, it is because I just remembered that I don't have to shout at you.
Monday, April 9, 2012
A Common Thread
Dirt. Grass seed. Rocks. Sidewalk chalk. Cigarette butts. Zip ties. Bubble solution. Bubble wands. Sand. Grass. Leaves. Sticks. Trains. Matchbox cars. Pencils. iPhones. iPods. Remote controls. Sponges. Kleenex. Paper towels. Uncooked rice. Cooked rice. Magnets. Ice cubes. Straws. Beads. Nails. Thumbtacks. Silk flowers. Coasters. Poopy diapers. Poopy wipes. Clean diapers. Clean wipes. Barettes. Ponytail holders. Cotton balls. Brushes. Eyeliner. Toilet paper. Earthworms.
Ah, yes. The earthworm. If you haven't figured out what I am writing about, those are the most recent things that came to mind that Wesley has put in his mouth in the last 96 or so hours. The kid either has a serious case of pica or a penchant for knowing exactly what he shouldn't put in his mouth, so of course, he puts it there. The earthworm was actually a couple of weeks ago and all I could do was stare at him and throw up in my mouth a little bit. Thank God I have an incredibly awesome neighbor who doesn't fear touching gross things the way I do, so she kindly swatted it out of his mouth and launched it into the yard. Wes was left smacking his lips with what little earthworm he may have ingested along with the dirt appetizer that came along with it.
If I haven't said it before, I will now. Matt and I are in agreement that God knows what he was doing when he gave us Wesley last. Otherwise, the Brogans just may have been a three-person household.
Ah, yes. The earthworm. If you haven't figured out what I am writing about, those are the most recent things that came to mind that Wesley has put in his mouth in the last 96 or so hours. The kid either has a serious case of pica or a penchant for knowing exactly what he shouldn't put in his mouth, so of course, he puts it there. The earthworm was actually a couple of weeks ago and all I could do was stare at him and throw up in my mouth a little bit. Thank God I have an incredibly awesome neighbor who doesn't fear touching gross things the way I do, so she kindly swatted it out of his mouth and launched it into the yard. Wes was left smacking his lips with what little earthworm he may have ingested along with the dirt appetizer that came along with it.
If I haven't said it before, I will now. Matt and I are in agreement that God knows what he was doing when he gave us Wesley last. Otherwise, the Brogans just may have been a three-person household.
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