But if Scooby could figure it out in thirty minutes or less, I suppose I can do it in the next fifty years.
And when I can't find clues, because clearly there are days when I don't have one, all I have to do is sneak into my Stink's room at 2AM to see what it's all about. Either I love this kid so much I could clearly die of heartbreak, or I'm a clingy stalker mom who will show up at his junior high basketball games with photos of his first bed and comments like "yes, that really is a Scooby Doo shirt he's wearing with the bedding ensemble, as well as Scooby underware... and a little Scooby vitamin in his tummy tum yummy tummy!"
As for Pip, I adore her just as much. But whenever I try to take a picture of her sleeping, she stirs, sits up in bed with her eyes shut, and mutters something very close to "Go Away, Mom". (Actually, that's exactly what she says, but I'm still in denial about how I'm going to raise this headstrong diva. I'm going with strength, humor and the occasional vodka tonic.)
Cheers!
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