The Ladybug

Today was a beautiful day, warm and cool and mosquito-free. We were outside with our daughter while she rode up and down our driveway and around the cul-de-sac on her bike.

At the top of the driveway, she spotted a ladybug and called us to see. I stooped down to pick it up. So my daughter could hold it. Because holding a ladybug is fun.

I held it for a moment and then put it in my daughter's hand. It landed on its back, so I moved in to assist it. In a blink, it was flipped out of my daughter's hand. In alarm, she quickly pulled her foot back against the ground, and began to search for the ladybug.

I found it.

It was flat.

I said to my child, "I think we killed it."

As I looked down at the flattened form, I felt a stab of guilt. For the bug I had disturbed, had caused to die. My daughter looked down at the ruined bug. I feared the tears would flow from her sensitive being. I braced myself. A few moments passed.

As she looked down at the pavement, she uttered the following words, in her trademark flat, matter-of-fact tone...

"I'm glad I'm not a bug."

And then she pedaled on.

A few minutes later she spotted another ladybug. I didn't pick it up.

Disney Memories

Well, it only took me a year, but I finally finished my first Disney scrapbook, the one for my parents, who generously arranged our trip. The book is now in Florida, but, since I remembered to scan it, now I can look at it any time I want AND I can share it with you!

The pages are 8x8, if you're interested, and I never would have finished it without the help of my good friend, Marcie, her treasure trove of *highly* organized papers and stickers and tools, her donated Disney embellishments, and the all-day scrapbooking event she invited me to. Yay, Marcie!

A Christmas Poem

Or:

How to make Clement Clarke Moore cringe from the grave

Or:
How to make my brother laugh (and cry) even when he's not happy with me

A Gift for Rory

'Twas the week before Christmas
And my heart was aflutter.
I had all my gifts,
Save the one for my brother.

For his list many times
We cajoled and we pleaded.
But to our dismay,
Our pleas were not heeded.

Where would we shop?
Oh, what would we buy?
What in the world
Can we get for that guy?

A-shopping we went
With grandiose design.
We'll sure knock his socks off
This Christmas time!

We shopped at the mall,
Old Navy and Target.
We even hit Wal-Mart;
You know we were desperate.

We queried the kinfolk,
"What did you get for Rory?"
Each person we asked
Just had the same story.

"You know your brother
Didn't send us a list.
He's always been difficult,
That Rory!" they hissed.

So what can we get for this
Super cool man?
Maybe something to show
He's the ultimate fan.

Aggies or Cowboys
Or maybe the Rangers
(So bummed that the trophy
And they remain strangers.)

Nah, sports is too obvious.
How 'bout a top?
Something blue or deep green
To make his eyes pop!

"Get him some wine,"
Suggested the nephew.
Hmm, maybe instead
We should call Dr. Drew.

A nice vuvuzela
To relive World Cup fun?
But that crazy noisemaker
Would make Mom come undone.

Perhaps something quirky
Like a jar of cashews,
Chia pets or a clapper,
Or a Snuggie or two.

What can you give to
The man who has all?
Surely he doesn't need
Crap from the mall.

When truly the one thing
We wish to convey,
Are three little words
We don't often say.

So if you're not satisfied
To hear "We love you."
Then give us your list
Before the day's through.

Although I would love to post the video of the live reading ... I won't. And, dear brother, your gift is on the way (along with our thank-you notes.)