Let me sidetrack, as I am wont to do, and explain that I can’t count. Today is my mother’s eighty-first birthday, not her eightieth. I had faulty birthday counting logic in play when I wrote the post in my tired state last night. I knew Mimi was thirty years older than I was, so I added thirty to my age. Although, that’s not exactly the case. Mimi was thirty when she had me, which means if I’m fifty, she would have to already be thirty years older than me and therefore would be turning eighty-one, not eighty.
My foolishness aside, my daughter loved her present. It was an American Girl sized wheelchair, crutches, and casts for the leg and arm. They have been playing doctor with the doctor kit but didn’t have any doctor-sized items for the dolls themselves. My daughter absolutely loved the wheelchair.
She loved it so much, she has officially decided she wants Santa to bring her a wheelchair for her for Christmas. How am I going to get out of this one?
The Big Boy Update: Today when I picked up my son from school I was on the phone with my mother and after wishing her a happy birthday, she asked him what he might want for his upcoming birthday. He said, “A surprise. Anything you get me is priceless.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter also opened another present from someone special tonight: her Aunt Jo. She felt the package and with barely a touch said, “it’s a water bottle.” And she was right, but it was one of the double-walled ones that keeps beverages hot or cold for hours and hours. My daughter has been making hot chocolate every morning and suddenly realized she could make hot chocolate and take it to school to drink for lunch. She is really excited about taking it Monday when she goes back to school.
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