The eight year old woke believing she is an Opera Singer and is screeching to the top of her lungs. The six year old has me spraying sparkles in her hair so it's difficult to type ... much less complete a thought.
On the way to my nine o'clock meeting in Savannah I'm going to slow down to 35 miles per hour and drop them off at school.
Then I'll have some quiet time.
It's a crazy way to begin a day with a heavy agenda. I'm used to crazy. Thirty years of working with homeless people, I've seen and heard everything! I know how to deal with the real life crisis of people's lives.
So I lock the girls in their room and tell them to get ready for school.
It's a beautiful day as I sit on the beloved back deck.
Waves are giving loud sloppy kisses to the shore. Choirs of birds are singing hymns. The sun is throwing diamonds on the ocean. I believe in God again.
The Opera screeching resumes and the birds all fly away.
The six year old complains that I only sprayed one side of her hair and is now making demands that I stop what I'm doing and fix it.
The sun hides behind a cloud.
But I've learned new things today already.
Who knew Opera could be sung at that high of a pitch?
Who knew glitter is to be evenly sprayed in hair?
I have a feeling that I'll be learning lots more today.
No comments:
Post a Comment