India was part of a fund raiser to help kids with juvenile diabetes a bit ago, but she kept getting the name of the disease mixed up, and then couldn't remember what it was called. She told the people who asked that she was helping get money for the kids who had the heebeejeebees.
Sometimes, I can't get over how much I love being her momma. It's so good. Last week, after her graduation from kindergarten, I packed us a picnic lunch and we drove down to the river. We sat on big rocks and ate our lunch, watching the birds and bugs live out life on the sand. And then, we played in the mud. I'm not always the best at playing games that five-year-olds-almost-six-year-olds like to play, but I can do mud. I plain old love mud, still. So I let her boss me around and make the rules. I dug up the mud, mixed the mud, transfered piles of mud from one rock to the other for no seemingly understandable purpose except that she asked me to. We smeared it on the rocks, let it dry, added water. Carried the mud to another rock. It was a good time.
After, we went for a long walk, found a bridge and collected stones to drop into the water and hear the plunk. She said hello to everyone we passed, made chitchat with the dog owners, and pet as many of the dogs as she could. We walked through the trees and she carried a ziplock bag left over from lunch. She called it her thankful bag and put all the treasures she found on our walk into it, until it was stuffed with leaves and rocks, a shell and flowers.
I got a sunburn; we were filthy and exhausted; thanks abounded.
