My lovely little daughter is not quite what I expected when I found out I was having a girl. Having been a tomboy most of my life, dolls and frilly things didn’t hold much appeal. I envisioned, however, that my daughter would be all frills and lace. Wow, was I ever wrong!
Yesterday, when I picked her up after work, she came bounding in from my parents’ expansive backyard, covered in dirt. She jubilantly held out her hand to show me a wad of lifeless, dried out “thermies.” What are thermies you ask? Worms. She had been digging (my mother’s failed attempt at a garden is now my children’s own digging area) for thermies all day. This bunch had apparently been some of the earlier conquests.
She was so proud of her thermies, she wanted to put dirt in a jar and take them home as pets. I told her that their thermie families would miss them (oh the little white lies parents tell). She almost started to cry, understanding that she does not like to be away from her own family, and ran out to bury them again. Within seconds, she was back, completely dissolved into tears. Apparantly, she fell on her way out to the dirt pile and crushed her thermies. She held out the smashed wad of warm, dried out, lifeless, smashed thermies. We had to have a funeral for the thermies. At the conclusion of our impromptu ceremony, she held a dirty hand to her lips and blew kisses to the dirt pile. Then she proclaimed, “Make pretty flowers, little thermies, make pretty flowers.”
Hmmmm…I have no idea where that came from.