My eldest child celebrated her ninth birthday just a week ago. And, you know what? It's not fair!! She can't possibly be nine years old; there's no way.
Yes, I know that I sound like everyone's parents always sounded, every time we thought, "I'll never say/do/be like that." I'm alright with that at this point in my life.
We went to Chuck E. Cheese twice last week, once on Monday, and then again on Friday. We HAD planned the Monday trip; Friday was just one of those spontaneous, at the urging of grandma kind of things. I DEFINITELY suggest going on Mondays! It's great to have so few people crammed into that building, especially the rather small one that we go to. Friday wasn't as bad as it could have been, but around 5:00 p.m. - there was a sudden influx of people. I felt like a sardine. I nearly flipped out. It was horrible. I'm scarred. Really.
Now, everything is back to normal. My feet don't hurt from running after children for 6 hours. My hand has very nearly healed from my decidedly stupid accidental stabbing (I was trying to pry apart frozen ground beef patties with one of the sharpest knives I have ever used - Don't do that! Stabbing yourself hurts! Presumably, being stabbed by another would also hurt; but it would be less embarrassing, I would think).
Why does she have to be nine? Nine is half way to adulthood. HALF of her childhood has flown by in what seems like an instant.
I need cheese...
To go with my whine...