Okay, so - I get home from work & check on sick bunky girl (feeling better), say "bye" to sweet grandma who came to care for/cook for/entertain sick bunky girl, and sit down with the mail. And . . . it came! Leslie's acceptance letter to camp. It must be an acceptance letter, right? It's really thick. Rejection letters are thin and to the point. But this baby is thick. (I vaguely remember this from college!) So, I tear it open and read: Congratulations! Your daughter, Leslie, has been accepted into the intermediate bass orchestra. Huh? What's this? Leslie, is there something you aren't telling me? Another instrument? No, I know this must be a mistake. So I get on the phone. And I get the run around. Of course. Yikes! This is frustrating!
Now, on to why I love grandma. Leslie's grandma, I mean. My mom. I love that she is so nice to come and spend the day with Les whenever I need her to. I have this insane compulsion to go to work no matter what but I don't like to leave L when she's sick so . . . Mom gets in her car and drives 45 minutes to cook, clean, run up and down the stairs, and play slave girl to my girl. While we're on the subject, I also love how close Leslie is to my mom (both of my parents, actually). We have such a wee little family that it makes it extra important for L to have close connections outside of B and I. And she and my mom have always been crazy about one another. My mom used to make up these crazy sea creature stories for Leslie and Leslie couldn't wait to hear them. When we still lived in Michigan, mom would call L on the phone to tell her the stories. It was so cute. So, those are two reasons that my mom rocks.