When Toddlers Attack

I spent nearly 15 minutes lovingly molding our favorite bilingual adventurer (below) out of Play-Doh. I finished my creation, and set her on the kitchen counter for my two and a half year old to admire.

DO NOT make fun of my Play-Doh skills.
(For those of you without an active imagination, this is Dora.)

Of course, she wanted to “hold” her. And by hold her, I knew she meant destroy her. Because that’s what my little angel does best. There’s a reason we call her “destructosaur.” First, it was the head that popped off. “Uh-oh mommy!” Then, it was her arm. “What happened to her arm mommy?” Then, it was this:

Poor Dora. Even Boots can’t save her from this misfortune. 
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An Everlasting Crush

This is our “before” picture. Note how well rested we looked!

November 23, 2001- I climbed into the passenger seat of his blue Chevy Blazer, my emotions a mix between nervousness and pure joy. He was a cute boy. A very cute boy. And he was taking me to the movies. Should I show my excitement? Play it cool? I must have handled myself quite well, because I’m now married to that very cute boy.

We met while working at Sheplers. I was 18, he was 21. I asked him to clean my boots. He happily obliged, and what started out as roller-coaster crush turned into something real. Something lasting.

A lot has happened in ten years. We’ve grown up together. We’ve fought like crazy and we’ve loved like crazy. We’ve moved five times. We bought a house, sold it, bought another house, and moved it eleven miles to our 80 acre patch of land. We’ve lost a baby. We’ve brought two more into this world. We’ve seen some of our friends get married, and some of our friends get divorced. We’ve seen family members die. We’ve laughed, we’ve cried and most of all, we’ve stuck together.

To my best friend, my lover, my partner in crime, I’ll always see you as that very cute boy in the cowboy hat with the mischievous smile. Here’s to another ten years together. And another. And another.