I love cheese. The best food you’ll ever eat probably contains cheese and I can’t think of many things that aren’t made better with the addition of cheese. So, when people look at me, roll their eyes and dub me “cheesy,” I’ve decided to assume they mean it in an absolutely delicious kind of way. It’s much better for my self esteem. Of course I do realize I am absolutely and quite delectably cheesy. I mean, I bought our entire family matching t-shirts from Walmart. Clearly, I’ve embraced this aspect of my personality.
I’ve figured out from where my cheesiness comes, however, as my mom had the idea for our whole gang to wear our matching shirts to pick Julia up from her last day of school, yesterday. She thought it would be fun and special. I agreed. And I felt if ever we were going to try and pull something like this off, sooner was better. A few years from now, such an extreme show of solidarity and family pride would probably ruin Julia’s life forever. But, she is 6 – wait, almost 7, she wants you to know – so she thought it was awesome.
And you know I took pictures.
There’s Dave and the girls, looking sweet.
I like this one better as it captures Dave’s true essence.
We tried to get a shot of my parents and the girls.
Lucy suggested they make funny faces.
It was a good idea, I think.
Here I am with Dave and the girls.
Dave thought it’d look better if we did this.
It reminded him of an album cover, which is appropriate as we are rock stars. Obviously.
I suggested this.
(P.S. Pretend I’m skinny.)
But it went like this.
And then someone cried.
*Cue These are Days by 10,000 Maniacs.