My youngest boy came home the other day with a gleam in his eye. “Fire up the oven mom! It’s pizza roll time.” He stopped at the store after work, and had a bag in his hand.
It was one of those kid things we did for fun. We would squeeze them open, and blow the heat out before popping them in our mouths. Too many ended up on the floor, some splatted us on the face, some ended up in our hair.
We always had fun with the pizza rolls, and my 22 year old “baby” wanted to hang out and relive some good times. Of course, he had to have a beer with his.
The times might change, but the enjoyment doesn’t.
Today I’m grateful for a few moments, a few laughs, and some fun with my young man, who has grown into an incredibly nice human being. I’m a proud momma.