I am in Wichita this week living the grand life. Grand, as in Grandmother. Coralie has taken to calling me "Grandmother" when she is in a certain mood. It is always with a twinkle in her eye. She told me yesterday that I would never be her mother. OK. I'm fine with that, Granddaughter.
Because Grand means getting to share makeup with one who is SERIOUS about its application. I would insert a picture here of a 3-year old with a unibrow and brightly colored cheeks if I had taken one.
Grand means smoothies are for sharing.
Grand means making hand motions for the song "Wheels on the Bus" whenever one sees me enter the room.
Grand means reading books about things I don't usually ponder on a normal day--butterflies, fairies, and snails.
Grand means I get to do it all over again--play, sing, read, and share--with little ones. The same, but different. And I'm fine with that, Granddaughter.
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