I'm thinking about you while you're toiling away in the world of e-commerce.
I'm thinking I need to tell you that this year I'm really serious.
We are not going to fit everything in the van.
Don't you give me some cheeky response because you've never been thwarted by the mountain of stuff I've had you pack in the past.
Because feast your handsome brown eyes on this:
This is in addition to the luggage.
And the snacks and DVDs and DVD player and cooler filled with diet coke and carrot sticks and 3 million Capri Suns and books for the kids to read and mazes and dot to dots for Mark to complete and the Lego magazines for him to pore over and the gameboys and the children and you and me!
We have extra stuff in all these boxes this year because besides the usual hand-me-downs for nieces and nephews we have the trappings for a baby shower (games and party favors and gifts...it will after all be the social event of the year) and preschool books Mark is done with that we're giving to his cousins and stuff I've borrowed from my mom and sisters...books and clothes... and then the toys we're giving to Olivia's needy family. Olivia collects needy families like some people collect refrigerator magnets.
So here's your heads up dear husband. Here's your vote of (un) confidence. I'm afraid it won't work.
(And this is when you tell me, "Yes it will...of course it will." Because I could use the reassurance)
Yes those are diaper boxes and yes Mark is 6. You may obsessively hoard boxes if you've moved as many times as I have too. Don't you judge me.