Verkhoyansk Town In The Arctic, The Temperature Rose To Over 100 Degrees
I’ve always been fascinated by people who’ve made it their mission in life to churn out kids at the same rate the folks behind the Now That’s What I Call Music! series pumped out compilation albums in the 1990s and I’ve devoted more hours of my life watching reality television shows that document the trials and tribulations of raising a gradually increasing double-digit number of children under the same roof than I care to admit.
The Duggars and their ilk would have you believe they love all of their children the same, and while I admit I can’t speak from experience (and likely will never be able to unless something in my life goes horribly, horribly wrong), I’m calling bullshit. I’m not saying it’s impossible for a parent to adore their kids equally, but when you have enough of them to field a starting nine in addition to a reliever and a backup catcher you can throw in the bullpen, there’s no chance they’re all receiving the exact same amount of affection.
Sure, I could be wrong, and again, I can’t speak as a parent because I’ve done everything in my power to avoid becoming one, which is due to the fact that I already have enough shit to deal with and am in no hurry to add “a human life” to my continually updated list of things to worry about.
