My kids have decided that the word Grad sounds like an insult.

You Grad.

Give me all your money, Grad.

Clean my room or I’ll punch you in the face, Grad.

Kind of like Bif. Or Clayton.

My apologies if your mom was drunk and named you one or the other of those.

Or if you lived through the 80’s.

My firstborn is walking the line tomorrow wearing purple head to toe.

Sometime soon you need to hear about the day I found out she was a fetus.

Or an embryo. Semantics.

It was pretty dramatic and epic. And it was dramatic.

And so is she.

In the best way possible, of course.

Congrats, little bug.

You make me proud.