We do crazy well around here.
It was Crazy Hair Day at soccer camp today. As if having crazy hair wasn’t enough, 9-year-old Madeline went all crazy-eyed on me when I told her I wanted a picture of her tres chic do. My 5-year-old fashionista might have been a little jealous of the sheer number of accessories adorning her big sister.
I asked Madeline if it was okay to post the picture on my blog. She looked at me like, “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Then there was me recently trying to enforce quiet time. If you can’t beat them, you might as well join them.
(All my pictures from the last few days were coming out all grainy. I discovered the lens on my phone camera had a nice layer of gunk over it. This is what I call the Mom-of-little-ones-with-grubby-hands-filter.)
Off to go live my cray * life.
*Funny story: I ordered a running peep of mine this “Half Cray 13.1” shirt before her second half marathon several months ago. When it arrived, my husband and I stared at it in shock because we thought the company had misspelled crazy. I went online and checked the shirt out and saw that the one on the website also used “cray” instead of “crazy.” Google quickly informed me that all the coolios now use cray instead of crazy. Leaving out that one, little “z” makes texting so much easier, I suppose. IMO, all this texting lingo is a little cray-cray.