Bill and the boys came home from the game yesterday and spent the afternoon making homemade meatballs while Weslea and I went grocery shopping.

Due to this, I got to endure an entire Sunday meal of fairly poor to completely terrible Italian accents thanks to Bill. He got the kids started on “meata-ballas” and there was no stopping them after that. We then moved on to Bill’s “godfather voice” when he told the kids that he was Padre Bill and they’d do well to remember that. I told him that he sounded constipated which in turn caused him to tell the kids that I was “Diablo.”