Hey there, awesome Moxie-Dude readers!
Our days here in Mexico are soon coming to an end and since my 14-year-old daughter, Samantha, is growing more and more into the “planner” type, she is already starting to organize our packing for the trip home.
PS. Sometimes I think she’s adopted. The only hole in that theory is that I was there when she was born.
Last night Samantha asked me where our passports are. Again.
She asked this same question about a week before we left for our trip and I remember the conversation well:
Samantha: So where are our passports?
Me: In a secret place.
Samantha: Oh. You mean like “the junk drawer”?
And since we don’t have a junk drawer here in Mexico, I had to think hard (read: fast) when she asked me this question again last night.
Me: I’ll get it for you in the morning. I’m too tired right now.
Samantha: You have no clue, do you?
Me: *yawn* G’night.
This morning, after a frantic search (before Samantha got up) I found them tucked away in one of the zippers of one of my purses.
PS. Junk drawers serve a purpose in life. And don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.
PPS. One day – when Samantha is older, wiser and less mature – she will understand this.