O: I know! We'll put on our puddle splashing boots and go on a veeventure!

There are a handful of markers that help you track the passing of time when your kids are little: how quickly they grow out of their shoes, where their head falls when they lean against you (O, hip bone and P, crotch), and those magical mispronunciations. O has been losing about a special word a day. As her diction becomes clearer and her vocabulary expands, I have embarked on a mission to halt the passing of time. We have embraced some of her early pronunciations into our framily lexicon. A living creature is an aminal. The stuff you put on your lips to make them shiny is glip glops. You go to the dentist when you have a gabitiy. On really special days, read everyday, we go on veeventures.

This blog is really just that, an attempt to slow down the passing of time by documenting it and a fresh new veeventure. To that end, I got a shiny new toy. You can't defeat the passage of time with poor image quality after all. If anybody out there in the ether can show me how to work it, I'd be forever in your debt.

O: Momma, my brain bone hurts.

K: Maybe you should rest when we get home.

O: No, that won’t help. The only thing that will fix my brain bone is a French Fry party.

In order to share this with you I have to confess some things first, some dark secret things about my parenting. My kids don’t always eat organic. I don’t personally prepare every morsel that enters their sweet tiny mouths. They have eaten boxed mutant orange macaroni and cheese, sodium-laden canned soup, and a shade of pink not-found-in-nature bubblegum ice cream. They have had refined sugar, GMO produce, and gluten. We eat at restaurants. We order take-out. And, wait for it, we sometimes drive thru and get, gasp, fast food. There. I said it. I feel better.

The reason we drive through, however, is a special one. After an especially long day, we will on occasion have a French Fry party. The best thing about a French Fry party, other than the delicious golden crispy goodness of drive thru french fries, is the spontaneity. We don’t plan it. We can have one regardless of the weather, the time of day, or the number of tantrums. I guess, if I’m being honest, I also like that it feels a little bad, that we have to hide that fast food bag at the bottom of the trash or make sure that none of the other preschool moms see the detritus in the car.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what a French Fry Party looks like

Someone will suggest it. We’ll all get a conspiratorial smile. We sing the French Fry party song. We find a drive thru. We do have our preferences, but I’m not going to start a french fry debate here. French Fry parties are about love. One medium french fry, please. I am instantly the conquering hero. My strengths and abilities at procuring this delicious treat are lauded at top volume. P would eat them all in the car. O, the planner, wants to save each and every one until we reach our destination and we can really enjoy them. I wield the power, the greasy bag riding shotgun on the seat beside me. I love French Fry party days.

Do you have anything you’d like to confess?

What’s your family’s version of the French Fry party?