Love notes

Here is what was on my fridge this morning:

in case you can't read teenage boy scrawl, it reads:  Good luck you handsome son of a gun!

Braeden had some tests today and I guess last night before going to bed, he wanted to prepare for himself an early morning pep talk.  It made me smile.  It strikes me as something my brother Enoch would do.  (He, like Braeden, is also a handsome son of a gun.)

This was also on the fridge:

In case you can't read teenage girl cheekiness, it reads:  Dear House Elf (Dobby),  Could you arrange the fridge?  It's getting out of hand.  Love, Harry Potter's Best friend (wink, wink)  I might give you a sock!

I don't really understand what Harry Pottery's Best friend (wink, wink) means. 

Also, in my defense, the contents of our refrigerator are not that bad.  Yes, I did go to Costco last night and that always creates a packed fridge and yes, a jar of salsa fell on my head and rolled across the floor yesterday (didn't break!).  But still.

It's not THAT bad.  Is it?  Why am I showing you the contents of my fridge?  I don't know.

It's not my fault I have to buy enough milk weekly to feed a small army (there's more in the door as well).  That makes for crowded conditions.

Tonight, I think I'll suggest Emma uses up some of her creative energy in arranging the fridge to her specifications.

If she does a good job, I might give her a sock.