Stop staring at this screen, it’s almost Mother’s Day!

There’s still time to call Mercury over at FTD!

Ah, my mom… she is a meek and gentle sole.

I’ll never forget the struggle I went through trying to decide if go public about Theresa’s murder would be too much of a shock for her. When the National Post ran a full page photo of Theresa on the cover of their life section I was ready for the worst. But as mother’s are want to do, she surprized me:

The cover was too soft. They should have run a photo of her dead body in the water with the caption, “this is what will happen to your children if you send them to Champlain College!”

Ah mom, you frail, sweet thing, you.

Now I didn’t plan on giving her flowers this Sunday (I’m cheap)… I figure a nice, long telephone conversation will make her happy.

Then there’s my wife. Ten boxes of Chips Ahoy peanut-butter chocolate-chip cookies, that’s what she’s getting. Old garbage-gut’s got a sweet tooth. And not an inch of flab, I don’t know how she does it. I figure breakfast in bed will be pretty good too. Then I’ll take the baby out of her life for a few hours, the poor thing’s got that kid nursing off her teat like a permenant fixture.

To all you moms out there, kick-back and pour yourself a tall one, you deserve it.

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