Small Miracles

The day before my birthday. I spent the day with the loveliest 6 year old, Bess. The older two kids were at some water park with their friends (two big kids crowding into a car with other big kids, how did my kids get those teenage bodies?), and Bess and I had the day to ourselves.

We went to the Frift Store (as she calls it) to look for some little present for her buddy Mikey, and she scored a Dumbo stuffed elephant and a Scooby Doo sweatshirt in her favorite color, red. Then we went off to Target to eat pizza and have an icee, and then fill our cart with marshmallows and Captain Crunch. Bess picked out a great new hairbrush with a squishy handle (a birthday prize) and I finally got a razor. I have so many razors and no blades, and I spent forever in that aisle trying to figure out which version of what razor I had because the stupid blades are so freaking expensive, it was like shopping for a couch, no lie.

Then we got a ton of pool toys to take to Palm Springs, and then I almost choked at the cash register at the price, and then we came home. She asks great questions, though. "Who stomached the first person?" I told her it might've been monkeys, and she said, "Who stomached the first monkey?" I think I have a scientist, or maybe a theologian, or maybe maybe a poet.

Then it was swimming and eating and she lined up all her toys on the couch in fact there was no room on the couch because there were different booths of toys strewn about (all which are still set up right now if you want to come over), but we managed to eat salad and pizza again and make rice krispy treats, and then the bigger kids came home and we all passed out in bed.

The day before my birthday, my butt is still healing from my horse fall, but it is healing. If it keeps healing, I'm going to have to go riding again, and that's scary. I wish the ground was softer.

The day before my birthday, I hate goats. They are like annoying relatives that wear too much jewelry and break into all your conversations and eat all your food and smell bad and then they do that again the next day and the next, and they don't care that you don't like them. They like themselves. They're an ugly person without a mirror. (We're borrowing some friends' goats. They keep the horse happy for now, and then they will return to torment my friend.)

The day before my birthday, I am glad I have a birthday, and that I have these growing, range free kids stalking around the house. B and I get to go to the movies tomorrow, everyone's safe in bed, I spent a whole day with The Caboose (the CaBess?) and it even sprinkled rain out there for a second, in the summer, in California. Small miracles.