Dear Laney,
Yesterday, you and your dad sold me on the idea of riding down to the river to throw rocks. I was easily sold because I suffer from Only Childitis, a condition characterized by the fear that everyone else in the world is having fun without you, so you need to go on as many adventures as possible, even if you really suspect that they're going to be boring or cold. Ask Samantha's mom Karen about this next time you see her - she'll be the one next to me, throwing rocks.
We had a pretty great time, despite the weather being what most Southerners would refer to as "stupid cold." Man, you just LOVE to throw rocks.
Like your old man, cold weather doesn't seem to affect you much. In fact, when I suggested that your dad pick you up and take you back to the car - because after half an hour of plunging your little hands into a raging tumble of melted ice, you must be cold - you reacted by kicking your dad in his man parts and clawing at his eyebrows.
Minus ten points for inappropriate anger management, but plus five points for taking it out on your dad instead of me.
We took a short walk on the bridge so you could point out every truck on the interstate (excuse me, "Uck!"), and you so you could wave to every motorist who decided to take the Alberton exit. All three of them.
By the time we left, you and your dad were best buddies again, and I was the one waiting in the car with the seat warmers on high.
Love,
Mom
No comments:
Post a Comment