We’re watching fireworks from a Fallsview hotel overlooking Niagara Falls and an impressive one shoots off across the night sky. Hazel – it looks like fairy dust! Me – it looks a ghost’s hand reaching out to grab you . . . Sam – it looks like throw up. Hmmm. …
So I’ve been listening to the soundtrack of the Mel Brooks musical Young Frankenstein a lot lately and giggling gleefully to the song Please don’t touch me which has some potty-mouthed lyrics when my daughter pipes up from the back seat: Daddy – what are tits? This of course, just …
Apparently Hazel wants to play soccer this summer. Not because she likes soccer. No, she’d like to be able to run faster . . . so she can catch the boys.
And what will she do if she catches them I wonder?