Little kid meltdowns are fun. And by that I mean: They're not. Dearest Nikki, whom I love, had a total panic attack over having to wait a half hour to watch a DVD she was particularly in the mood for. I gave her some space for a while, though, and twenty minutes later she came out of her room with a huge smile on her face as if nothing had happened. O, to live so simple a life that what seems a tragedy one moment is no more than a distant memory the next.
I made a dentist appointment and an optometrist appointment today. I felt like a big girl. Well, except for the fact that I kept having to call my mom for missing bits of information necessary for insurance purposes. I have come to terms with my dependence upon my mother's guidance.
My foot is asleep.
There are six days until my birthday. Exactly six years before I first made my debut on this planet (That's September 9, 1979, in case you were stumped), a little comic called For Better or For Worse made its own debut. In today's photo, I am holding up the very last FBoFW strip. I would be lying if I said I didn't shed a tear or two when I read it.