Sometimes I go outside and I see my neighbors' kids playing in the street, wearing bathing suits in February with only one shoe on, rolling in the grass, and screaming. Sure, they're having fun, but do I want MY kids running out in the world with this assortment of cavepeople? I smirk, because my kids are really quite perfect.
Then I walk inside and Audrey has chocolate on her face from a donut she found on her booster seat this morning and Sebastian doesn't have pants on because "that's not his job." There's a mixture of dog food and crayons in the hallway. Also, the water is running in the bathroom, but no one's hands look clean.
I'm going to lock the door so my little cavepeople don't corrupt the neighbors' kids.
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