When I opened the girls’ box of 64 crayons, I gave them hopeful instructions not to dump the box all over the table.
My husband scoffed in the background.
Him: “Like that’s going to happen.”
Me: “I know… but maybe if I warn them they’ll keep the crayons in the box.”
Him: “Unrealistic expectations! It’s like the time you tried to talk to Lily about racism and expected her to understand you.”
Me: “Well… it could happen.”
Dream big, everyone.