Yesterday our family split in two, divided down the line of boys vs. girls. The five members of the blue team went to “A Day Out With Thomas” at the Colorado Railroad Museum. Lee wore Joel in the backpack carrier and scrambled after the rest of the Thomas fanatics with a bravery that takes my breath away. I wish I was there to witness my husband in action as he herded the boys around the model trains, photo-ops with Thomas and Sir Topham Hatt, and the looping ride on a train pulled by Thomas the Tank Engine himself.
The girls team, two members strong, set off on a shopping adventure. How stereotypical. Had we thrown in tea, The Nutcracker, a manicure, and “The Princess Diaries”, our blood would turn to Pepto pink, our hair would spontaneously curl, and our voices would tighten into Betty Boop-cute. We took an aggressive approach to shopping, however–we went to Goodwill twice in our effort to find bargains. We went to “Old Maybe” (as my daughter called Old Navy when much younger) twice in an effort to find a particular shirt in a particular size. We got fattening snacks of chocolate and pop–Coke for me, Pepsi for my girl. Rejuvenated, we soldiered on and on, until it was time to meet up with the boys for lunch at McDonald’s to celebrate our nephew’s third birthday.
I am grateful for the times when I can spend time with my one, my only, my girl. She is growing up so fast–she wanted to wear her “fashion boots” yesterday, but discovered halfway through shopping that pretty shoes can lead to painful feet. She gasped at the cute clothes, the ponchos on the racks that she is “dying” to have. She wanted me to crank the music as we drove along and she danced in her booster seat. We had fun together. I know that the day of my replacement as shopping buddy is coming soon. She will have girlfriends to go shopping with. She will crank the stereo in their cars, gasp at their cute clothes, argue with them whether Coke or Pepsi is better.
It makes my heart race, pumping my ever-pink blood a bit faster.
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