I have to say though that "country" girl I may be, I am pretty thankful for where I live. I love that within 25 miles of our city you can be in legitimate farm land, full of well-tended crops and black angus cattle. I love that we get the best of both worlds and that in the same weekend we can ride the pony at my parents' hobby farm and see a mummy at the Natural History Museum.
So when I figured out that I had to go into the city, at first I was pretty unenthused. Honestly, I try to pretty much avoid the city but for a few times a year. But I figured, hey, I we gotta go we might as well make it awesome. So since Hubby happened to come home from work early, we called a friend, loaded up the car, and hit the Natural History Museum.
It's funny, having grown up here. I don't appreciate the wonderful museums right at my fingertips as much as I should; I certainly haven't in recent years, anyway. I've seen that dang elephant more times that I can count and all he really does for me is make me reminisce over fourth grade field trips.
But she hasn't.
She will, probably.
True story: The first time I ever fell in love was in the Natural History Museum. I was in kindergarten, and I was in a group with a little boy I didn't like named Ian. The chaperone made me hold Ian's hand and I thought it was sticky and yucky. But somewhere among the dinosaur bones I believed I'd been "struck by cupid's arrow" (thank you, Fantasia) and decided I loved him. A couple of days later I decided I was too young to be in love, but we still played at each other's houses all summer.
Remind me never to let any little boys hold my little girl's hand!
|Belly tickles. The funniest part was when Sweet Pea tried to blow a raspberry on her own belly.|
Needless to say, she was not successful.