God Bless my younger, twenty-something brother who has graciously agreed to share living quarters for a month with his Old Fogy Sister and her family of six as we wait impatiently for our closing date on the new house.
Here's a little taste of life in our new digs....
"MOM!" Hannah shouts up from the basement stairs, "Alex spelled root beer all over Uncle Tad's carpet."
I fall into the sin of rash judgement and mumble loudly all down the basement stairs, "How could this accident happen? I told you all NO FOOD downstairs! Who brought a root beer downstairs? How did you guys even FIND root beer in this house? I certainly never bought you any soda pop recently!"
I get to the basement and discover....
That my son had accidentally kicked over a REAL beer which my brother left on the floor in the basement TV room.
Hmmm... can't fault my son. Can't fault my legally above the drinking age brother.... Thank heavens for my trusty steam-cleaner.
