You know, you threatened to "feed them to the lions" if they did not behave at the family Mother's Day celebrations. . .
You didn't do that?
Plan B is for the week after Mother's Day. The week in which kids loose their minds, run wildly a their brother's baseball game (or whathaveyou), do not listen to a word you say and throw more 'tude in your direction than a hormonal teenage girl who has listened to "Careless Whisper" on her boom box one too many times.
(Don't even pretend you don't know what I'm talking about.)
Plan B is for the following day when said children all, all three of them, come down with a mysterious gastrointestinal disorder, disease, ailment that begins in the very early morning hours and magically disappears when a meal of spaghetti and meatballs is placed before their Gatorade-infused bodies.
Plan B may or may not require cocktails.
Okay, who am I kidding? Plan B definitely requires a cocktail (or 10).
And so in the spirit of Plan B, and having not much time in between breaking up wrestling matches amongst the boys and requests for tea parties from the girl, I bring you these photos of a recent outing in our fair city.
I'm glad I have a Plan B for the rest of the week, because I sure don't have the energy for anything else.