Mitch and Shannon

Chicken nuggets, bitches.

In Duke’s hometown, apparently age 9 is too late to learn basketball.

Open bar. The right dress. A nice tux. Someone might get lucky.

Cute selfie pose, or really need to pee?

Next, the tattoo.

Sephora’s new “Virtual Clown Creator” fails to get out of beta.

When the closest your son gets to the soccer goal is during the team photo.

Target’s analytics nails it.

Hey, Boomer. Millennials are so yesterday. It’s now all Gen Z.

Beauty regimes are not for the faint of heart.

When asking your husband for a favor is more trouble than it’s worth.

When your son’s interest in WWII starts to gravitate from constructive to creepy.

When “time out” really meant something.

Black Friday $49 Kindle Fire. Best. Babysitter. Ever.

Oh, there are so many wonderful mistakes ahead in her future.

Drinks with your work BFF after another BSD drops a bunch of crap on your lap “because you’re just so good with details”.

Screw the niece who told you that Anthropologie is “an old lady’s store”.

Even if nothing else came from my graduate degree, at least my rooommate is now the Danish ambassador to France.

When all of the other awards have been handed out.

Remember this boys when we’re dead and you only have each other.

Your son tells you his wax museum project is due tomorrow and you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Expensive scotch. Shannon and Casey. 20 minutes.

Because McDonalds.

Tuesday.

“You want the moon? Just say the word, and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.”

Here Lego. Take more of my money.

Standing on the shoulders of giants. Or jews.

On second thought, perhaps a ghost costume in North Carolina is not the best idea.

Give us your tired, your poor, your ________.

Grandpa’s coin collection. One semester of college taken care of. Seven to nine more to go.

Mishap on the monkey bars.

When you get a promotion at work, just without a change in title, salary, or team.

Getting to the moon is a team effort.

Weekend without the kids. God bless grandma.

Just 10 more pounds, and that is mine. Make that 20.

Why am I never alone?

The things we were able to accomplish before Twitter.

Digital vs. analog. Debate.

Grandma, I wish you were my mom.

Tyrant King. And a dinosaur.

When your Apple watch shames you.

Celebrating a British event here in America. WimbleDurham, that is. Not Brexit.

Chicago in the summer. Much better than Chicago in the winter. Or North Carolina in the winter, for that matter.

But knee surgery is for old people. Wait. That means…

I get some cherry, some oak, a bit of earthiness, and just a hint of exhaustion.

The correct collective noun is an “orgy” of nerds. Or so we’d like to think.