Tuesday, April 26

Still sweet.

Saturday Miss Priss and I had to decide between two activities.

1. There was an Easter egg hunt in the tiny town to the south of us, starting at 11.

(As you may or may not know, I live in the city deemed by Forbes to be the most miserable in America. I now understand why Huntington, Virginia was not thrilled to be advertised as the fattest town in America all over Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution, because the most miserable in America? Really? WE are still in California, folks. No blizzards, teeny tiny tornadoes, no humidity, just bone searing heat.)

2. So in defiance, there was a "Stockton is Magnificent" rally on the Miracle Mile--Also slated to begin at 11, and rumors of a flash mob were flying. Little O wanted to know what a flash mob was. I told her that everyone secretly agrees to meet somewhere at a certain time, and then just spontaneously break into dance.
Little O didn't hesitate.
We HAD to got to the flash mob.
Until, as we talked, she figured out that we would be watching OTHER people dance, and then she was all about the egg hunt. The flash mob would only be fun if she were dancing.

We went to the egg hunt, she got her loot, and we agreed it was a good day. We wondered how the flash mob had gone, and she got a little serious and wanted to ask me a question.

When we broke in to dance, would the police know ahead of time, so it was okay? And where would we have broken in?

Oh, my heart. My girl is growing so fast, but every once in a while she reminds me that second grade still has magic.