Me: “What are you doing?”
Him, deadpan: “Living wild.”
A minute later the 8yo comes in, not wanting to go to school.
Me: (Blah blah blah)
Him, changing tack: “I don’t even know why you trust these strangers to take care of us. It isn’t safe.”
Anyone who wonders why this evocative Moscow novel isn’t getting written, it’s because my life wants me to do evocative Erma Bombeck.