My 21 year old son popped home from college yesterday for a few hours and took a shower before heading back to campus. I walked into his bedroom this morning, fully expecting to find a wet towel lying on the floor, because finding wet towels on bedroom floors is nothing new around here. In fact, it’s a critical part of the mother-son ritual in our home. My son announces he is about to take a shower and I say, “hang your towel on the hook in your bathroom when you’re done,” or occasionally, “throw your dirty towel in the laundry,” but what I never say is, “leave your wet towel on the floor in your bedroom so it stinks up the carpet, okay?” And yet, after nearly every shower taken in my home by this fellow (and his older brother) I find a wet towel on the floor. Or worse, on the bed. And it annoys me. Every. Single. Time.
The casualties of terrorism continue to climb: Chattanooga, San Bernadino, Orlando, Charlie Hebdo, Paris, Brussels. Istanbul, Bangladesh and today the world weeps for Nice, France where 84 innocent people were brutally murdered – savagely mowed down or shot. The death toll includes 10 children and 2 Americans, with dozens more injured.
And we have a decision to make.
As Americans, we have the responsibility – for ourselves and the world – to make the correct decision this November. So, just in case you need a reason to vote for presumptive republican candidate, Donald Trump, let me remind you the other wannabe POTUS believes “we must empathize with our enemies.” Let me remind you the aggressive and fervid spread of ISIS was facilitated by this flawed policy.
Just in case you need a reason to vote for presumptive republican candidate for POTUS, Donald Trump…
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I like to think of myself as the #World’sBestMom. Okay, maybe not, but at least I was creative in my parenting. For example, in the ongoing effort to
civilize the little savages teach life lessons to my children, when they were Iittle I sometimes mimicked their unacceptable behavior rather than asking (or forcing) them to stop whatever it was they were doing.
Once when my youngest was having a full-blown physical and emotional tantrum, I dramatically threw myself face-first onto the family room carpet, thrashed my arms and legs about wildly and screamed like a maniac in order to illustrate just how silly he looked. The little fellow was so taken aback by my outrageous display that he immediately stopped screaming, stared at me like I was insane and started laughing. Tantrum averted.