We attended a baseball game with friends on Sunday, and two pre-teen boys sat behind us. As they ate yummy cheese pizza, consuming a large pie in the way only young boys can, my friend Jill and I overheard these gems:
"Sometimes, my parents give me money to do things, then they ask if I had any change. Even when I don't spend it all, I tell them I did, and I keep it."
"Sometimes, my dad gives me a Red Bull before a football game so I'll have energy."
"All parents drink beer or wine or something like that. All of them."
Listening to these boys, I was overcome with the urge to confess to Jill at least one terrible parenting thing I do, then I realized: Now that I'm pregnant, I don't drink beer or wine or something like that.
So there you have it: I'm PERFECT.
P.S. My stepdaughter had a Lean Cuisine pizza for dinner that night. That's not wrong, is it?
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