No, I have another question.

Why do husbands try to get down with the latest hits when they are very much the 70’s child/80’s teen?

I mean to say, stick wit’ yo’ era, boyfriend -  stop trying to convert me to yo’ happenin’ oonts oonts music.

P.S  - A  lowered, lit up like a christmas tree, rice car will not fit seven children and two adults in it… ever!

It’s been a big day bloggy friends. I haven’t got it in me to bore you to tears with Ivy sickness stories.

I only have one question to put to all of you out there.

When will the toilet humour stop?

How many times in one day can three eleven year olds laugh at their own flatulence?

Well? Does anyone have an answer for me?????