Superindulgent gushing parental tripe, More of the same, la-dee-da,

There's something so sweet and so heart-wrenching about First Best Friends. Rosie learns new and wonderful things from her best friend M-- all about sharing and imagination and wrestling and just-kids-games and negotiating and making up. They scream each others' names and run into each others' arms every time they see each other. At the same time, I thought MY heart was going to break the other day when M shouted, "Rosie, You're not my best friend anymore! I don't want to play with you!" And Rosie just sobbed and sobbed. I want to protect her FOREVER from that kind of pain-- but not from the kind of giddy kid-friend-love that I can never give her.
It is funny and alarming both when Rosie tries on M's bad habits, just for size, to see if she likes them. Cute when the bad habits are from a 4-year-old (foot stamping and hair-twiddling is A-OKAY with me) but scary when you think of 13 year olds. Ah, I just love my kid.


Our orange tree-- I wish we could take some credit for the darn thing-- produces the most amazing sweet juicy oranges. Ever. In abundance. I eat them at every meal, juice running down my elbows.

Lining up the day's spoils."Keeteeee."
RJ announced that it was time to wash the car. So we filled up a foam cooler of soapy water and gave her a sponge-- she went right to work.
Just a few distractions...
And... taking a break. Until the styrofoam broke.
So we upgraded.




My kid is WAY into "floppy ponytails."And the weekly gymnastics class? You couldn't BUY better comedy.
And... something is looming on the horizon. More gushy parental tripe to come soon. Hopefully, very soon.