I’m scared. Hold me.
Tonight, we are hosting Boy Scouts at our house, and it looks like rain.
I called my husband, telling him he might want to get started on getting a key to the gym at our boys’ school, because I think we’d all have a lot more fun if Scouts was not in my front room.
Yes, I know it’s only an hour. I also realize it’s only 7 boys. Which means that it’s really only two more boys than I have in my house on any other day of the week. But something about Scouts, I just can’t put my finger on it.
I might go ahead and open up that new box of wine (the one I’ll be buying just before the Scouts arrive). Otherwise, I could end the evening looking like this:
