Today Lucy assured me that she wanted cake and that I could make it.
“I’ll let you make it mom, okay?”
Meanwhile, Gemma -fanciful, imaginative Gemma- has been cataloging her gift requests. Sunday she told me I could get her what she wanted for her birthday because, here she clicked her tongue, “You know what I want.” To save face (because I had no idea what she wants, aside from a phone and that’s not happening), I told her it was okay to ask us for things.
“She said, ‘Dad, for my birthday I want a motorcycle and a statue of Mary.’ I told her she was NOT getting a motorcycle.”
But then she asked me, “Mom, is this how you hold a cigar?” As she pretended to chain smoke, her faux combat boots tapping a sassy rhythm on the linoleum, her ‘do-rag slipping over one ear.
Speechless is what I was. And then I caught a few pictures because I think it will be humorous to have those present when she enters the convent. Yes, the convent. It’s the only place for that load of spunk.
Pray for us!