Yesterday, I found myself in the unenviable position of asking my teenage son, affectionately nicknamed "The Grouch," to help me out.
This isn't something I do lightly. There's a reason we call him the Grouch.
Unfortunately, with my husband out of town and kids strewn everywhere, I really needed that second driver. Even more unfortunately, the kid I needed him to pick up was his nemesis, the next-younger, the Goth.
(The Goth is a good kid. He just dresses funny. It drives the Grouch crazy, es…
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