Dear Darlings,

Horatio. Dear, sweet Horatio. He has been our savior in this new way of life we now embrace. Going from just Stan and me at home to having five of us in the same house has held some challenges, but Horatio has stepped in and stepped up. He shoulders all the blame for the messes and the irritants that could easily escalate into something ugly. I blame him for everything. (Well, almost everything ~ more on that at the end…)

So we all love and embrace Horatio for taking the hit and making life at 4617 Pandemic St. a little less stressful, and a lot more tolerable…

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Everyone should find their own Horatio. Blaming a fictitious character for someone’s faults is infinitely more amusing than spitting fire about life’s little irritants. Claire asked me the other day how it didn’t drive me bat shit crazy that Stan did ~ at this point I can’t even remember what he did, but it was something she and I both found crazy making. So I told her, “I’m sure there are things I do that drive your dad batty, but it’s just easier to let the little things slide, or they become big things. Or better yet, blame Horatio.”

Now if I could just get those House Elves to put stuff back where it belongs, like the kitchen shears which disappear with regularity, or the socks that don’t find their mate, or pairs of shoes that magically stack up in the middle of the kitchen…

Keeping a sense of humor is what is keeping us all sane ~ for the love of my children…

xo,

me

P.S. Remember to Wash. Your. Hands.