So, there’s a house one block over from us that always has a gaggle of boys sitting on their front porch…and a headless statue of Mary next to the bushes. 

It makes me chuckle, because I envision their mother gluing it on several times and then saying, “Forget it.”

This morning, Hutton–providing further proof that sports with a ball are not his thing–tossed his pajamas down the steps and shattered one of my mom’s crosses. I wasn’t even mad; just sighed, grabbed the bottle of super glue, discovered it was empty, and said, “Screw it.” I now feel a kinship with the woman on Woods Avenue that I’ve never felt before… 

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