Ride'em Cowbaby

My sister gave me a stack of books that she was getting ride of, most of them classics. The kids have loved them and now they are forcing me to read Oliver Twist to them. They don’t understand half the words so it takes a while to explain what is happening. We’re only in the second chapter and they are both completely distraught about the way the babies are treated and how no one cares about the poor people and they are being beaten and starved to death. Kate asks me questions about it all day. She just can’t believe things like that happen in this world. I can’t either. If I stop and think about all the children who are being abused my heart rips into tiny little pieces. Can’t they all come live with me so I can take care of them and love them?

I would promise to wipe their bums and boggers every day, just like I do my own kids. I would let them destroy the kitchen while teaching them to make pancakes. I would let them stay up all night reading. I would dress them up in leather cowgirl vests, boots and tutus. Well, maybe just the girls. And when they ask me, “Why don’t you just stop bothering me and let me do it the way I’m doing it?” I would say, “Ok.”