flashback

Social Services called on Wednesday and asked if we'd take a five-year-old girl for the weekend. Miguel is in Edmonton, so I said, sure.

I'd forgotten about five-year-olds. I mean, it's nine years since Rachel was that age. I'd forgotten about Play-doh and little fingers going through everything and hot chocolate with straws and what do you want for dinner? - Pancakes. What do you want for lunch? - Pancakes. We went to the airport to drop off Allen and Betty Ann, Allen's going out on medical, and she spent 40 minutes pushing a luggage cart around the airport. I let her, because every other time I've been at the airport there has been a kid doing exactly the same thing. I only stopped her when she wanted to push the cart up onto the luggage belt, and when she tried to go out the door onto the runway. (It's a small airport). (Rachel, who is standing behind me, says that's a bit of an understatement.)

I'd forgotten about bedtime meaning stories - I read "Hamilton the Duck's Springtime Story" that came up north with us, and the whole of the Disney 101 Dalmatians book. I'd forgotten about baths that feature plastic toys, and french fries being the only vegetable worth eating.

I braided her hair this morning, before church, but she didn't like it and we had to go back to the two little pony tails she likes. She liked the singing in church, but not the talking. The tv was on Treehouse most of the weekend. The teenagers sat with her dutifully while she watched. I don't mind Spongebob but I've always hated Franklin... his parents are just too good to be true. And really, who's friends with a snail?