It really irks me when someone says my two-mom, non-traditional upbringing, could have damaged me as a child. I'm damaged because my moms were wolves.
Some nights I lie awake, wondering, is my son a nancy ass? Now, I fear the worst?: that he harbors dreams of a future in social work.
Indeed there is no Santa Claus, and we can definitively say it would be impossible for one man to visit all the children in the world in one night.
We all know abortion is wrong. Bad. But sometimes the mother is so disgusting and fat from being pregnant, we really don't want that baby.
The postage wouldn’t stop coming and my uncle moved us into a motel, but the wizarding world still found me.
I stay up nights worried that my boys will not strive to be anything more than the chairman of the board of directors for a Fortune 500 trans-Atlantic conglomerate.
I love Gabe. He's half me. And I’m sure that fact has something to do with his literal clinginess to Kristina's quadruple-D, turn-to-see milk-pillows.
When the Magic School Bus Program was canceled due to budget cuts, Ms. Frizzle took the opportunity to retire.
I've cracked the case wide open. It all traces back to the 1998 Tropical Para-Dance at Windy Meadow Middle School.
Mom, Dad, this is your official notice that you are no longer in charge of my childhood photos and videos. Please turn them over immediately.
Kids need to learn that the old school tactics of not killing a person, but killing their will to live, is much safer and rewarding.
There's no better way to impress on a young boy the timeless lesson of impermanence than the gallows. Then move on to a ballista or siege tower!