Chloë at San Gelato
I picked the girls up after school, and Chloë got to ride shotgun. At ten, she is still technically a back seat rider, but my back seat could only accommodate her two younger sisters. Who knew it would be a grand perk of Oma day?
She twisted the side mirrors, adjusted the vents, rearranged the sun shades, locked and unlocked the doors. "You seem to be enjoying all the accessories." I said. She checked her hair in the make-up mirror on the back of the visor. "Well, yeh. The front seat is way more luxurious than the back seat." she said.
We're babysitting this week, getting reacquainted with the up close and personal. It's so fun to listen in on girl-talk, get in on bobby-pin demonstrations and overhear piano practice. These girls are 10, 9 and 7, old enough to pack their own lunches and put in their own wash. Bedtime is not an issue and they come home anxious to do their homework. Observing such awesome qualities has restored my belief in heredity.
After dinner they played on the swings in our neighborhood park while the wind whipped their hair into tangled updos--mine was standing straight up. It was time to head over to a family night concert, and I suggested we go home to wash up. "It probably won't do much good to comb our hair with all this wind," I said. "Oma," chided Chloë, "I think we should at least make an effort."
She twisted the side mirrors, adjusted the vents, rearranged the sun shades, locked and unlocked the doors. "You seem to be enjoying all the accessories." I said. She checked her hair in the make-up mirror on the back of the visor. "Well, yeh. The front seat is way more luxurious than the back seat." she said.
We're babysitting this week, getting reacquainted with the up close and personal. It's so fun to listen in on girl-talk, get in on bobby-pin demonstrations and overhear piano practice. These girls are 10, 9 and 7, old enough to pack their own lunches and put in their own wash. Bedtime is not an issue and they come home anxious to do their homework. Observing such awesome qualities has restored my belief in heredity.
After dinner they played on the swings in our neighborhood park while the wind whipped their hair into tangled updos--mine was standing straight up. It was time to head over to a family night concert, and I suggested we go home to wash up. "It probably won't do much good to comb our hair with all this wind," I said. "Oma," chided Chloë, "I think we should at least make an effort."
Like I said: granddaughters are a sweet treat!
So fun!!! My kids are jealous that they are getting some Oma tending time. I am not sure if that means they want to get rid of me or just like you. Either way, I'm good with it. Have fun with those girlies!
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