I am pretty sure I know why my parents had kids. Was it because they really loved children? Because they wanted to raise a family? Because they thought it would be really cool to see what combinations they could make?
My parents are more practical than that: They lived in New England. It snows there. And they needed help shoveling. So my parents had three.
I have been back in Massachusetts for exactly two days and I have helped shovel more than 17 inches of snow. So far. After finishing both the front and back walkways this evening I announced I was going inside. My fingers were frozen and my pinky toe was about to fall off.
“California is done shoveling!” I said before stomping inside.
For the next week I have to live amongst these hardy New Englanders who now think I am a wimp. We are about to sit down for dinner. That my dad grilled. Outside.