Last Friday night, I was washing dishes when I said, “Yay, it’s the weekend.”
“Isn’t every day the weekend for you?” My 14-year-old son, Sebastian, said.
I was like, “Listen Buster, first of all, I wake up at 6:25 to get you to school. I know you think I crawl back to bed, but I have work to do.” I could hear the defensiveness in my voice before I even got to my resume.
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