I think I owe my daughter an apology. I was not my best mom this weekend. She whined. I yelled. She whined some more. I sent her to her room.
It's just that there is so much change going on, I think, all of it good, most of it. No, all. We are tired.
Which means that tomorrow morning she gets waffles while tonight I creep into her room to kiss her cheek. I am sorry.
This is the song I have been singing at bedtime, my french loose like a chignon apres a nap. Something about how our lives aren't worth much, that they pass in an instant like wilting roses, but that someone told her he still loves her so how could that be true? Ozzy on my boob while I tickle Zoey's back. We think this might be the most beautifulest song ever and tonight, after they are in bed? I promise I will be better. Serait-ce possible alors?
p.s. Bonus groovy points because mais bien sur France would have a first lady who could sing like this.