Lately Finley is fascinated with what she wants to be when she grows up. She's mentioned veterinarian, fireman, artist and singer. Tonight I wanted to capture her sweet imagination and put it in a bottle.
She had been in bed about five minutes.
"Mom, mom, I've got to tell you something." I had started to clean the kitchen and really wanted to let her yell this one out. There are just enough stairs to her room to make my marathon-training legs ache. I know these requests are fleeting though.
"What's up?"
"Mom, you're going to be Lady Gaga and I'm going to be the drummer. Dad can be the rock star. He will have to hold Breaker because he can't walk yet. You can sing in the microphone. No, no. I want to sing first and you can play the drums first."
I'm so glad I made the trip.
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