It’s not so bad. 

When Sweet Hubby goes to work, Hurricane Owen relaxes. 

I don’t know why. 

Today, we took an hour long bath an assortment of tub toys, a plastic chicken and a salad spoon for some reason.  Next, we built his little compression arch tent in the living room, and now he’s inside, with every stuffed animal he owns, eating Honeycomb cereal from the back of a plastic dump truck and reading them stories with a flashlight.

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