Five is harder than I thought. For me. Not for Lillian. It's been the difference between my baby and my child. Though she hasn't been a baby for years. She is showering by herself. No more rub a dub dub, three babies in my tub. She buckles and unbuckles herself in the van. She play independently with the neighborhood kids and has her own friends at the pool. She makes shit up and convinces herself it's true. Like when she told me she really does want to share with Dempsey, but her brain said no. She brushes her hair and teeth, as well as I can. She asks where meat comes from and if what she's eating is good for her body. "If I stop talking so much will my teeth grow?" Sean and I answer with an emphatic YES! We like to make shit up.
She talks about good decisions and bad decisions. Claiming Grady only makes bad ones. I make lots of bad decisions. Like this one, and this one here, and here's yet another bad decision. Yesterday could be construed as a bad decision. I will start by telling you that I did check for moving vehicles first. Before allowing my children to run into the middle of the street to jump into a huge puddle. We did it over and over and over again. It's how we entertained ourselves all morning. Running to the curb when a car was coming and returning to the puddle when it drove away. Grady somehow mistook jump for lay. So that's what he did. Some may say he made a bad decision. Others would just lay down next to him. That's what I would have done. If I wasn't taking the picture. An elderly woman told the triple threat they were cute. Grady told her she was cute too. He makes shit up. Learned it from his sister.
Make fun of a bad decision today. And make some shit up too.