At least, I guess that's what I'll attribute this to. Because after what I deem an awesome little birthday celebration at our house last night complete with pizza in front of the t.v., present- opening in the gazebo (with the long awaited scooter as a surprise finale) and the singing and candles and cupcake eating and present playing...you get the point.
After ALL that BIRTHDAYness, Greta woke up this morning not quite ready to start the day, it was like a birthday-happiness hangover. (Ever have one of those? You just can't quite shake the fun of the evening before, and your brain feels like an elephant just sat on it? No alcoholic beverages involved here.)
It was like dressing a seal this morning, as she did not exert one ounce of energy to even move her muscles to get dressed, and I didn't feel like a battle so I played along (are you keeping track from before? The score is now about 8 million Greta, mom 2. Pretty soon not only will they take my degree, I think they'll just take me) and amongst the floppy sloppy arm through the arm hole nothat'stheneckholenowwehavetostartalloveragain dressing, Greta looks at me and announces:
Pretty soon I'm going to be five.
(and if you've heard Greta recently, or anytime in the 3 years that
she's been speaking you know it's not just 5, but fiiiiive with the
sweetest touch of southern like you should be sipping lemonade
on a front porchswing in a big hoop skirt and widebrimmed sunhat
while she is talking.)
And all I could think of was, yes, pretty soon you will be 15 -- I mean 5.
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