What comes to mind when you first think of Amsterdam?
Windmills. Weed. Stroop Waffles. Tulips. Weed.
That’s what I thought. And so did my kid.
The last time we went to Amsterdam, he told me it was pretty boring. He said that Amsterdam is only fun for adults because kids can’t do “adult things” and Amsterdam only has “adult things”. He actually did the air quotes.
But he’s not completely wrong.
The boy is 13 years old.
Like, I have a WHOLE TEENAGER living in my house now. It’s so crazy to fathom.
How did I manage to keep this kid alive for so long? My plants barely survive.
Ya’ll ever have those moments? Where you see your kid grow up, but you don’t really see it happening. You just look up one day and be like “who is this grown ass man in my kitchen?!”
Sorry. I’m having a moment.
I love my child. He is literally my favorite person on this planet. But when he is sleepy or hungry or hasn’t pooped in a couple of days he is not someone I want to share space with. I love him, but nah.
We were in Egypt recently and a few days into our trip, we were exploring the Sahara desert on ATVs. It was the most fun we’ve had in a while. He rode on the back and screamed with glee while I embraced my inner Ryde or Die Chick. We saw a Bedouin village and watched the millions of stars as we ate BBQ and other traditional foods.