Sentences with phrase «at my parents house too»

And it's not just while walking he does it when he's at my parents house too even if they are in the house.

Not exact matches

At 19, the high school graduate got kicked out of his parents» house for getting into too much trouble.

im tired too of going to church, i am 17 years old and live with my parents that are of this christianity at 18 i can leave house yeaaaaaaaa not having to go ever again to church, that means No more legalism, No more judging No more having to go to sunndays in crazy rainy days and burning hot days, No more having to be presioned by the church doctrine i can be able to get a girlfriend and have relations and happly get on with my life actually in my family all my cousins left church because they werent able to handle all of the church commands and so do i, we are no longer living in the monarchy kingdom times we are in the 21century and have the right to have freedom.

Last Friday, at his parents» home in Pittsburgh's Hill District housing project, Harris's father, Joseph, was saying, «I think the pros were too busy looking at Major's faults instead of at his talent.»

For many parents this is the perfect option when their child will be in day care, at a caregiver s house or there are other children in the household too and having everyone be potty trained would be so much easier.

I can not tell you how many times my «extra stash» of just in case has come in handy at my parent's house even if the diaper was a size too small!

Kudos to you and all parents too if healthy eating is a real priority at your house by providing well balanced meals at home.

I would like him to take naps in a crib at my house or at my parents» house and I would like him to sleep there during the night, too.

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The movie's most stunning shot comes when Murphy makes too much noise at his parents» place; the scene cuts to a sweep shot outside the house, back to Cillian, and then back outside, where the camera hauls ass straight for the house in total silence.

It gives parents a nice feeling at open house too.»

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

Imagine your partner tells you that Thanksgiving should be at your parents» house this year because your partner feels too stressed to host.

Too often, we hear about a parent who buys a dog for their child, even though they know the pet will not be able to live at the other parent's house.