There's a picture of me hanging on the wall. I'm 4 years old, dressed as a baby chick, with a feathery tutu and felt beak. The photo was shot an hour before my dance recital, in which i gave a flawless performance, or so I was told by grandparents, repeatedly. To celebrate such an astounding display of grace and artistic interpretation, we bought root-beer floats. Mid float, something went wrong. Without warning, I leaned over and vomited half the float and dinner all over Mom's lap. Dad laughed.
I wonder if sometimes my mom looks at me and thinks "girl who puked on me." But then there are so many other applicable titles; "offspring which broke the kitchen sink," "the one that hit two parked cars," "daughter that dropped a computer,", etc.
Thinking about children makes me want to take a preemptive nap. And ibuprofen.
In other news, today Katie was asked out at the library. She's going to a math convention with a boy who saved her number in his graphing calculator.
Go Katie. Sounds like something she would do . . . just kidding!
ReplyDeleteYes. I'm excited that you are blogging again. And I posted a link to your blog on mine. Hope you don't mind.
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