Dave took the girls to a Daddy Daughter dance at Lucy’s school on Friday night.
They wore their favorite dresses and lipstick and twirled and proclaimed they were princesses on the way out the door. They came home happily exhausted, so it must have been a good night.
Saturday was all softball and Sunday we celebrated my mom on Mother’s Day by giving her lift-the-flap flowers the kids made for her.
Under each petal were words they’d written that described her. Kind. Lovely. Pretty. Silly. Shiny. Beautiful. Generous. Cool.
We attached each of them to lotions and body spray and they decorated our table at breakfast.
After a lazy morning, we all went geocaching in the afternoon.
The trail near our house now has a geocache every two tenths of a mile. We found four before Jack fell asleep in the wagon and Julia wrecked her bike and we decided to head back home. Later, we planted our sunflowers (the petunias didn’t make it) and four o’clocks.
I’d purchased those seeds two years ago to send to someone I love but don’t often see. I was going to enclose a note asking her to plant them and when they bloomed each day at four o’clock to think of me. I would plant my own and think of her, too. I wrote and re-wrote the note, but it seemed too silly and sentimental. I never sent them. But now they are planted, and when they bloom, I will remind myself to do one of the myriad things I’ve said I was going to do, but was afraid to.
There are 12 months in a year.
There are 12 inches in a foot.
12 items make a dozen and 12 dozens make a gross.
There are 12 signs in the zodiac.
There are 12 days of Christmas.
The Beatles released 12 studio albums.
The human body has 12 cranial nerves.
12 human begins have stepped foot on the moon.
You have to throw 12 strikes to bowl a perfect game.
A new day begins at the stroke of midnight – that’s 12.
12 is a sublime number – it has a perfect number of divisors that add up to a perfect number.
It is the number of years I’ve been married to Dave.
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