When The VP and I traveled to England this past summer (England being home, of course, to many of the world's best soccer players), we were fortunate to have with us in our tour group a young man from southern Minnesota.
All the women in the tour group took to Young Zeb right away. The poor lad traveled thousands of miles from home to branch out and sow some wild oats only to discover that he had twelve foster mothers along for the ride.
We fussed over him and worried about him as only true mother hens can. It was all we could do to stop ourselves from asking if he remembered to change his underwear each morning.
And yet, in spite of all that, Young Zeb maintained his sense of humor and stayed in touch. He came to The Outpost this past weekend for dinner and this morning, he sent me an email asking for the address for my blog.
Poor boy. Now that I know you're going to be checking in on the old site here, I'll take mothering to a whole new level. Not only will I be able to publically shame you into eating more green vegetables, but so will my dozen or so readers.
And I was only half kidding about that clean underwear thing.
Posted by Cathy at November 8, 2005 10:06 AMGreat Stuff!!!!!!
Posted by: Zeb at November 8, 2005 10:26 AMWorry not, Zeb.
With a little work, you'll be giving The Governor a run for the money.
Posted by: aelfheld at November 8, 2005 06:14 PMSorry Zeb, but I think she's serious. And just because she's quite a few miles away doesn't mean she can't whip you into shape.
Go ahead and try to defy her. We'll all cheering for you. But in the end we all already know the result. She's ruthless that way.
Posted by: Kevin at November 9, 2005 01:08 AM