How come I can walk across sleeping grass, lava rock and any other sharp and or hard objects but a lego breaks my foot?
How come legos hurt even worse when you step on them in the dark?
How come I’m always looking for a way to sort/store those blasted things? If you have any brilliant ideas, how come you haven’t sent them my way?
How come there are always 1000 legos strewn across the floor but there is always at least one missing from the set the kids want to build?
How come I have a dog that tries her darnedest to eat legos? You’d think she’d figure out after I don’t know the 200th serving that they aren’t exactly edible.
How come I seem to be more obsessed with legos than Jack and Bria?
I have four children. Three of them were born overseas. They are well traveled and have been introduced to more culture than I was at 30. How come one of them was recently shocked to hear that part of the population of Britain includes black people? So much for well cultured.
We live in a melting pot. Granted it’s mostly a melting pot of the Pacific. So how come Bria informed me that Martin Luther King was known for teaching people these 3 things. “1. Be nice to people. 2. Feed the homeless. 3. Plant more trees.” How come I’m suddenly wondering what’s in Hawaii’s MLK curriculum? Sounds more like her kumu’s curriculum.
How come it’s Monday morning and I was up at 4:30? Oh, that’s right I have a 7-year old that refuses to sleep EVER.
How come I have a 14-year old daughter? How come I was asked yesterday if I’m already having trouble with boys? How come they can’t stay little just a bit longer, like 35 years longer?
How come I can’t seem to find a way to end this post? Well, I guess this is a good a place as any. Have a happy Monday! I’ll be over here napping.