Another Year

Sometimes without meaning to, things happen.  Like turning thirty.  Or thirty-one.

Or, good Lord,  thirty-seven.

Which is what happened to me yesterday and merited my digging through the freezer for the last four donuts I’d been keepin’ an eye on–heh–and which also justified re-using my daughter’s green seven and my son’s last year’s three because…

ain’t nothin’ healthy about thirty-seven lit candles.  Granted we can count that high. 

But this…

This is laziness or ingenuity. 

It’s also 18 diapers carefully covering a box my husband wrapped, a box I would’ve been stuck peeling open diaper by diaper and refolding, had my son not exploded into the room and shown me differently.

Uh…bless him.

And bless the little computer stand within that box, the one my husband set up with two too many helpers, the stand I’m using now.

But mostly, Lord, I pray your blessings on another day…another hour…

another year.

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