Don’t trust a quiet house.
Just a little snippet of daily life. I’m not the cook in our family because my husband is amazing in the kitchen, so much so that I would rather stay in and enjoy his meals instead of eating out most any place. Yesterday my company had the day off, so I decided I would take Max to the grocery store around 4 in the afternoon to buy ingredients for a nice Italian dinner. Maxwell helped me carry in the baguette from the back patio into the house. I continued to put groceries away, and after about 10 seconds of having my back turned to him I realized it was too quiet, and then I heard a small rusting…
Plastic bag or no, this kid was eating that bread. I get the results from my National Geographic Genographic testing in another week or two, showing my family’s ancestory. I’m banking on at least some Italian being in the mix.