What about a framed needlepoint sampler that says, “You don’t deserve to have a house that is newer and nicer than mine.”

You mean like “Send me on my Eat, Pray, Love dream trip to Italy because even though you see me drop $100 in an evening on booze and food or $400 on a new leather purse, I cannot be bothered to save for my own vacation”? I had a friend like that. Emphasis on the past tense.

Hell, I’m still living for this:

Proposed solution to those who lack a KitchenAid stand mixer in light of all the wedding gifts they’ve shelled out for: don’t buy a gift for weddings or showers; instead sock the $50-$100 away each time into savings. After 3-5 weddings, you’ve amassed the amount to buy your own. And in your card to the happy…

So instead of “representing the airline,” the experiences you describe instead made it appear as the airline denying you expected “passenger rights” and thusly, the airline and its employees appeared in an unfavorable light to fellow paid passengers.

I mended the knees on a few pairs this weekend. I buy them at resale or thrift when I see her size (or the next up) because between the knees and growth spurts, they don’t last as long as I wish. I do cut and hem them into bike shorts after the knee totally blows out.

A minor child is not a representative of the company and literally no passenger on any flight would expect them to be one, even if it was the pilot’s or the CEO’s kid.

My elementary school-aged daughter has decided that all traditional pants are “terrible” and “make my belly hurt” and will only wear elastic-waisted leggings/stretch pants/knits. She wants comfort as she tree-climbs, karate-kicks, and army-crawls her way through 1st Grade and I cannot blame her.

Yes- especially since every boy child from age 2-17 I encounter at the airport looks like they just came straight from shooting hoops at the fieldhouse in Under Armor and shower shoes.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they shall be thrust into great power without having a shred of decency or any fucking qualifications.

So I misread “Barron” as “Bannon” and managed to scream so loud that my husband heard me from outside in the yard.

How Not to Add an Additional “Child” to Mother After You Become a Mother By Requiring Your Husband to Act Like a Grown-Ass Man

Tuttle was my rainy day go-to with my toddler when I lived in UA and needed a dry play area.

Yeah, if I want an outfit or a gift or a home item TODAY, brick & morter wins. Also, always free returns AND often better markdowns/customer service. Stores call their other locations to find a size or color and put it on hold, but a website doesn’t scour their b&m stores’ inventory and then ship it to me.

I have not yet, but will. I have distinct memories of seeing the films as a child and begging my mom for break dance lessons and clothes.

I just explained the notion of tacking “Electric Boogaloo” onto any sequel to my 7 year old in hopes that she will pass on this element of culture to her peers.

AKA:

Could I help in the development of an Upton Sinclair’s “The Jungle”-era doll who is a Lithuanian immigrant living in Chicago and performing child labor?!?