This is how it was supposed to go:
Swinging from the branches of the willow tree in Central Park, with our best friends, like the girls on the flying trapeze.
And this is how it went:
Please don't call my mother and tell her her grandchild has been maimed in a small circus accident. The girl is fine. But we have war wounds to show off. And the story to re-tell a couple hundred times. It all gets bigger and more dangerous and more spectacular every time we tell it. We are awesome in our own minds. Our black eye is proof - Fosters are tough.
Hope you get to swing from a few willow branches this holiday weekend.
xo YM
5 comments:
Aww, poor little Edie. I'll bet, because she come from *tough stock* that once all the hugs and kisses were doled out, that she had another go at the willow branch or that she soon will.
Enjoy your Memorial Day weekend.
I think a black eye is a fantastic accessory. A real conversation starter. Give her a hug from Mrs. W. xo
A black eye gives her street cred. Along with her Charcutepalooza tattoo, of course!
Poor Edie! Glad she is fine now. My 2 year old pulled a salt lamp onto his head the other evening. He is now walking around with the mother of all bumps on his forhead.
Poor Edie! So glad she's ok. Just make sure that whenever anyone asks her what happened, she says, "You should see the other guy." :)
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