I thought that I would be a good mother and take my little angels to the movies. This is quite a task, might I add. Popcorn arguments, candy arguments, drinks spilling as we walk, blah blah blah... To get into the actual theater, I feel like I should go ahead and book my room in the insane asylum for the following day. No kidding.
I get everyone seated and settled, only to turn around to see that Aidan has made himself quite at home--wearing nothing but Scooby Doo underwear. I begin the talent of speaking through gritted teeth all while still smiling (a skill mothers earn!) and Aidan quickly remedies the situation ... we begin to settle in to watch the previews, as I start to catch my breath from counting backwards from 10. Feeling that everything would be okay now, I am beginning to redeem my "Good Mother" feelings once again...I look at my children sitting happily munching on their munchies...sweet little Jimmy eating a hotdog. Sigh... life is good, until I remember one horrifying detail:
I. did. not. buy. hotdogs.