My boys are three years apart, not four, as Linds reminded me earlier this afternoon. So not only am I getting food all over me, senility is sitting in as well. Oh well, at least I won’t realize that I’m dribbling my dinner all over myself if I’m senile…
So, to correct the earlier post about how old I was when they were born, almost twenty-two with John, almost twenty-five with Ry.
Geezy Pete, this old lady stuff is a pain in the patootie…
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