Further proof of my unfit mothering: I allowed my boys to meet this dreadful man. He writes awful stories that no child has any business reading. Furthermore, I read them several (perhaps all) of the books, and not only did I use my own library card to borrow said books, I also used it to check out versions of the books on tape, which were all read aloud by either the author or some odd hollywood person. I even purchased the tickets for the booksigning.
As you can see, I am a complete ne’er-do-well, washout, underachiever parent. Which, in this case, means I am fun! (I even let John take them while I wrangled the girls.)
I.can.not.sleep. Side effect of medicine I am taking. Think I’ll go lay in the dark and recharge best I can.