I Strain

I am currently in the throes of a several-hour-per-night session of entering registration data for our local Girl Scout service unit. (Because they ASKED me to and I didn't have a quick excuse handy; that's why.)

It is mindless, time-consuming, and nastily eye-straining; but most of all, it has made me hate typing on my computer THOROUGHLY.

So, sorry for lack of updating lately. I have about two more weeks of at least an hour per night on this horrific task, and then it should be mostly over.

But, right now? I wish I had one of Badger's sidecars, and that I did not have this huge stack of forms in front of me. Sadly, this is not the case.

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Oh, but I do have to share this anecdote from the YG's first day of kindergarten.

See, she is extremely into "pretty." For several years now, she's been wearing what essentially amounts to "ball gowns" to school, nearly on a daily basis. So, it has always been common for her to ask me "Do I look pretty?" before heading somewhere.

Well, on the first day of school, she had been planning to wear a big flouncy dress of hers. But, when she came out of her room that morning, she had on a cute pair of "blingy" jeans that I had bought her at JC Penney, and a shirt with rhinestone buttons.

And, do you know what she asked me?

"Mama, do I look rockin' ? I want to look ROCKIN'."

I had to assure her that, as her mother, that I might not be the best judge of what "rockin'" looks like anymore, but as far as I was concerned, she was the rockinist girl in the kindergarten.