Fr. P: “Why are the roses I bought you for Mother’s Day hiding on top of our dresser? They look nice, but wouldn’t you be able to enjoy them more out here in the open, where you can see them?” Mrs. P: “So that they will be the first thing I see when I open… Continue reading Mrs. Pickwick does Mother’s Day
The first of the spring sunshine is finally warming the Pickwickian abode, and every year, the children become immediately convinced that I have spent the winter thinking up unique forms of childhood torture to break out upon the first daffodil sighting. I always deny the charges vehemently, but to you, my dear readers, I feel… Continue reading Mrs. Pickwick makes a Confession