How You Know A Mom Doesn't Live There

This is my refrigerator. Visible at a cursory glance are two kinds of green salad, low-fat yogurt, tortillas, sliced mushrooms, deli meat, red pepper, and cold chicken.

This is the refrigerator in the apartment of Boy#1 and Boy#2. It contains Gatorade, bottled water, and (if you look closely) the refrigerator's operating instructions.*

But you'll find an even better indication of appliance ownership looking at the freezer doors. On my refrigerator you'll see nostalgic notes, class pictures from when my Boys were preschoolers, and magnets that have been pulled out of Christmas stockings over the years.

Holding up the receipts on the Boys' refrigerator?

Axis of Evil finger puppets.

Of course.

*In fairness, this picture was taken the week they moved into the apartment. But after checking the refrigerator during last weekend's trip to the Far South, things haven't changed all that much.