"My Bebe Gunt, Horsie"

Sometimes this parenting gig is hard.

You're supposed to "keep the lines of communication open with your teen."

Yeah. We had trouble getting her to tell us what she did in her kindergarten class. I'm pretty sure she's elevated evasion to an art form.

You're supposed to be an advocate for your child.

But what if nobody knows exactly what the problem is? How do you advocate then?

But sometimes, sometimes you just want to grab them and squeeze them until they squeal. Then, tickle them until they almost pee their pants.

And sometimes, they say things that make you smile so hard your face hurts. Sam told his dad today,

"Kiss my skunk."

Now really, what do you say to that?