That just had to hurt. The arm was about as bad.
But no, angry jellyfish is not why we're here tonight.
It's the tat.
Last Christmas, the one got the name of the other tattooed on the ribs. These tats were unveiled as part of the gift opening last Christmas.
The maternal unit, as well as Grandma, was not amused. I was beside myself with glee.
Of course, this response garnered me the accusation of trying to be friend and bud, not parent.
As you might expect, I called bovine defecate on that, and asked just how many sibling pairs that she knew were close enough to do that.
The silence was deafening.
And the answer was, and still is, none. These two are beyond special, and I, for one, am glad to be a part of that.
-- Posted from a mobile device