My youngest, who is five, got in the car on Monday (I was still woozy and mildly feverish) and said, “I have a presentation tomorrow about Native Americans. I know everything about cactuses.” Which he proceeded to tell me. Even in my altered state, I was impressed.
So, this morning, still at about only 60%, I got up, showered, dressed and went to see my darling share his knowledge of cactus to all the mommies and daddies of Pre-K.
When it was his turn he managed a few facts in a sure, but quiet voice. The forever-cheerful Pre-K teacher (God love these women) prompted further. What else, dear, do you have to share about cactus? He paused and replied, loud and clear, “I have no clue.” He would have been a hit even without his Native American finery.
If you ever have the opportunity to attend this kind of thing, go. There is something so endearing about a small person so full of knowledge and confidence, something that often does not translate well into adulthood, that makes your whole soul burst open with hope. I was now about 70%, but needing coffee.
A few errands, then lunch with friends. I was still a bit mystified that I was not feeling well as I had been on antibiotics for three days. An hour-and-a-half, a yummy lunch, a lot of laughs and a parking ticket later, I’d say I was about 85%. Some healthy days are not that good; I needed to stop whining.
Next, sweet Rosie to the vet for her steroid shot, then back to Stuff to check out “some really great drawings” by Lori Buntin that Sloane had called me about. Oh, my. These are wonderful. Good art and good chairs.