The oldest two boys came downstairs wearing maroon shirts. Two out of three, that’s a trend just waiting to be photographed. So I put a too-small maroon sweater on the littlest boy, thinking it would be great if I could get a picture of the three of them sitting on the couch in all their maroon glory. And I’d call it Maroon 3. Like Maroon 5. Wasn’t that the name of a band? But mine would be Maroon 3, because there are three boys. And it would be amusing.
Except it wasn’t.
Also, I asked the Hen to please move his bright red clashing-with-maroon bag off the couch. But he refused.
Happy Family Day! May yours be slightly more cohesive, or at least tear-less, than mine.