Friday, May 31, 2013

Scotch


Rowan wasn't into hopping the proverbial scotch, so Julie drew that circle around him and told him he was stuck there forever, like it was a driveway oubliette.


Apparently we have a Houdini on our hands.

Lyla, hopping scotch:


Maybe this summer I'll introduce her to foursquare and totally rock her world.

Biker chick:


Not yet a biker dude:


His legs aren't quite long enough to pedal properly, so he still scoots like a dog trying to express an anal sack.

That might be one of the worst best sentences ever written.

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