Mouth lined with crumbs? Check.
Later that night, my dad asked if Chooch’s neck tattoo was real. Yes, I had a guy I met in prison come over and do it at the house, dad.
Chooch is down to one good pair of jeans because he trashes them so quickly. This is not that pair.
That pair was home in a laundry basket, caked with mud.
Yes, we fought about this on Christmas. You know how tightly-wound I get when it comes to my dumb pictures!
We had a fight about his hair, too.
We all felt this way.
Practicing his freestyle.
Who knows how many more years Chooch is going to exasperatedly give me. Gotta milk the “Because I’m your mom and it’s all I want for Xmas!” canned response as much as I can