So we broke out of jail, and wound up getting a date night courtesy of my parents and their slight affection for their only grandson.
Is it crazy that I could not stop giggling as we settled into our movie theater seats and watched the opening scenes of a movie that didn’t include animated characters or songs that refuse to vacate your head for two weeks?
I loved seeing that smile on Mr. Daddy’s face. Ignore my weird chin.
And the movie? The last ten minutes, the captions could have pretty much read:
Thus explaining the smile on the dude’s face.
Happiness is seeing your husband make his John Wayne face and mutter, “yeaaaaah” when the good guy gets off a couple of punches.
We went to dinner with a giftcard… and wound up with food to bring home.
I could not stop thinking about how easy it is to take for granted that our next meal is pretty much a given. And that we are so blessed, that I have weight to lose. Anyone else say Amen?
Linny’s post played over and over again in my head.
Itty Bit and I went to Target this week.
I could see the cashier flinch as we pulled into her line.
Dozens of items from the dollar section (which I never though I’d be brave enough to revisit after the entire “BLEEDING TO DEATH IN TARGET” debacle.)
She sighed. Her annoyance was all over her face.
Itty Bit stilled his chatter to observe her.
Waited for her to make eye contact.
Then said in a quiet earnest voice:
“They’re for Operation Christmas Child.
They’re for kids in Africa.
The other Target employee behind us in line watched quietly as the checker paused.
My six-year old knew the significance of this “routine” transaction. Kids in a far away country would see that someone cares. And he was inviting this weary employee to be part of something special. He looked at her as if it were a secret they were sharing.
I watched her annoyance melt. She stopped stuffing items uncaringly into the bags. She smiled at him.
You know what? When I grow up, I want to be like my kid.
(Go here for more information about Operation Christmas Child).