Toasted Stoat

While sitting around playing mexican train:

Mom: Andrew, STOP THAT! It sounds like someone shot a stoat.

Andrew: *squeaksqawk*

Dad: *grumble*

Mom: Stop grumbling! Winning isn't that important.

Dad: I'm not concerned about winning. I'm concerned about finding the appropriate mental health professional for my stoat.



So it looks like my lil bro has a new nickname...


In other news, the weekend was absolutley full of extended family, and only one of the four grandparents ever commits to any sort of plan ...and he doesn't usually TELL anyone. Much hair-tearing ensued.