“That looks like a joint,” I say. “Yup,” she says.
All tagged hide
“That looks like a joint,” I say. “Yup,” she says.
On Victoria Day mama warned me about playing with fireworks in the park.
I tell him to chase me and ask for a ten-second running start, a real one with “hippopotamus” between the numbers.
I sneak the empty beer cans out to the recycling bin; lifting up some cardboard and the worst drawings the kids made, I hide the cans, evidence I'm not doing as well as it seems.