8 : 439 : 5 : 22

Chapel:

Yali spent more time juggling my wedding band in his hands than listening to the book read aloud by the school librarian.

Carpool:

A gaggle of loud 4th grade boys and girls tearing up the general peace and quiet of post-class activities. A whole lot of “she likes so-and-so” and “he likes so-and-so”. And one three year-old with a hefty temper tantrum.

Cards Game:

We stopped in at Florissant – Carrie-Bri, Rose, Francis, and I – to pick Grandma up for the 7:15 show. With Francis behind the wheel and Grandma riding shotgun, we three girls squished into the back seat.

“You’re the skinniest, Collette. You have to sit in the middle,” Rose ordered.

“You just don’t want to sit in the middle. That’s like deciding which pencil is the skinniest.”

“And I have the biggest eraser,” Rose grinned.

Uh…

Grandma, who had missed this conversation, settled into her seat in the front and looked over her shoulder.

“Well, we’ve got three zippers in the back seat. They have to turn sideways and stick their tongues out so we can tell they’re there.”

Clearly this is where Rose inherits her sense of humor.

“Well, Francis,” Carrie said as we got on the highway, “now you can tell all your buddies that you took four girls to the ballgame Friday night.”

Downtown, lightning flashed in the east. Two shows for the price of one. The Boys of Summer desperately needed a win, and things weren’t looking pretty for awhile. But then, with the rain, came some hope. They held steady even as the rain increased.

Fortunately, we were under an overhang, we three girls up top, and Rose had already finished her Bavarian pretzel. Carrie-Bri and I split a dinner of Reese’s peanut butter cups.

There was lightning in the southwest now, too. Every time the sky glowed, the crowed oohed and aahed.

“Guys,” Carrie grinned, “wouldn’t it be great if we won the World Series on Halloween this year?”

“During a thunderstorm.”

“We sound like a bunch of ten year-old boys.”