Naked Honyocks. That’s What We Are.

So just tell me. I can take it.

Are we normal?

Really, you can be honest. I promise I’ll still be your friend.

Why do I ask, you may wonder? (Or if you’ve been reading this blog long, you probably won’t wonder.)

Oh, I don’t know…maybe because I go outside and find scenes like this.

What? You need a closer look? Oh, here, let me show you what I’m talking about.

Yes, you are correct. It is, indeed, a sand and water table, John Deere wagon, and my child’s clothing. All on the back lawn.

Yes, I’m talking underwear.

In the grass.

I’m pretty sure this means that Boy #3 stripped buck-naked in the backyard while playing in the sand.



Do my neighbors not already think that we are the white trash of the neighborhood?

Are the balls, golf clubs, baseball gloves, dog toys, scooters, bicycles, pieces of plywood used for bases, light sabers, flip-flops, Hot Wheels, Webkinz, metal detector, Little Tykes pickup, apple cores, popsicle wrappers, pieces of cardboard that the dog chewed up, Fisher Price castle guys, and whiffle ball bats that are strewn about the yard not enough?

Now we’re shedding our underwear and running around outside naked too?
(Okay, when I say we, I am not including myself. Or Husband. Yeesh!)

I think I should just give up now. Let the dog dig up the yard (which he’s already gotten a jump-start on), stick an old mattress on our porch (The kids keep begging me for a trampoline!), and display a couple demolitian derby cars in our driveway.

Quit trying to live a lie and just embrace who we are.

We are honyocks.


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