The Face of the Off-Season

A few weeks ago, the biggest Timberwolves fan I know brought the littlest Timberwolves fan I know to see some team members in a caravan fashion right here in town. Anthony Tolliver, Wayne Ellington, and assistant coach Darrick Martin represented the squad.



The guys were met by a gym filled with tiny humans.
Tiny humans with big questions, like one little girl's:
Why are you guys so bad at basketball?
Oh, yes she did!
But, the players laughed it off and turned it into a lesson about building teams through blood, sweat, and tears.
And 20 year olds from Spain. (We're comin'!)



But do you know who this little face was most excited to see?
Not Anthony.
Not Wayne.
Not Darrick.
Maybe KLove or Beasely if they had been in attendance, but they were not.
So who, then?



The freaking mascot, Crunch.
Hey, at least it wasn't the cheerleaders.



This is her howl face.
Howling right back at her beloved woodland canine creature in the NBA mesh.



And, when life couldn't get much better for the three-year-old Timberwolves fan, in the off-season, on a rainy Tuesday morning, the gym erupted with more of that crazy Crunch and his crowd-pleasing antics.



Which, rocked her face off.

Wordless Wednesday

Open Letter to Mother Nature

What do you get when a three year old is faced with 14 days in a row of rain?
Some pint-sized weather angst, that's what.




















Look at this face, Mother Nature.
Let's hope July is a lot better.
Less rain.
Less umbrella-wielding Ninja skills.

And, if you're keeping track, lil' dude, I am adding my $11 umbrella to your tab.
Although, it was worth it to watch you kick the shit out of it.
From the dryness of the garage, that is.

Independent

While the favorite man in our lives turns 33 today, you are making the world a better place at your grandparents', where you are spending the week reveling in Daddy's hometown, Grandpa's treats, and Grandma's adoration. Your weeks spent at Camp Grandma are some of your favorites of all time, as they should be. We are grateful for them, for you and your will-never-miss-us attitude, and the strange quietness that is our home when you're not in it.

Grandma sent me these photos just this morning. Since I packed you up two evenings ago, I have been missing your perfect little face, giant eyes, sweaty hugs, and ridiculous catchphrases. It was so good to see you having fun in the 4th of July sun!











But what I wasn't ready for is how damn huge you appear at that parade. I mean, in that lawn chair? I died. Who is that girl? Where did those long legs come from? Where is your stroller? I can't get over it! At least you had NaNa by your side, so I was able to recognize my baby girl amongst all the girl and general person in these photos!

Don't ever do that to me again!

And, holding your own sparkler?
I mean ... I remember when you learned how to hold your own bottle.
That was a feat.
This?

I can't wait to see you Friday.
It would be okay if you reacted the way you did when I picked you up from Camp Grandma last month.
When you clung to me for 10 minutes straight, glued to my chest, petting my hair, and saying Mama, Mama over and over.
Because that was awesome.

Have fun ... be good.
Mama loves.

Life Imitating Art

A few mornings ago, I began the wakeup process per usual.

You scared the crap out of me when I was drying my hair and bumped right into you in the bathroom.

Mama, you said, rubbing your eyes. I can't find Nemo.

Finding Nemo.



We found him smashed between the bed and wall. Smiling like the silly little clown fish he is.

To Get to the Other Side

We went to the park one gray, quiet morning last weekend just you and I.
Literally, the place was empty.

All you wanted to do was go across the monkey bars by yourself.
Even though you weren't convinced you actually wanted to. Or could.

Just looking at them, so high up, so wide across, made you nervous. You kept telling me you were so little.



You told me to come watch, but to not touch you.
As I eyed the distance from the bars to the tiny, gravelly pebbles below, I wondered just how hurt you'd get if you fell.
That doesn't make me a bad Mama. Just a proactive one ...



So you just hung on and swung and swung.
As I kept the camera in your face.



I kept speaking to you calmly telling you to reach for the next bar. That in order to finish, you first have to start.
Over and over I repeated myself to you. Waited and waited.
Held my breath a little.



I also told you it was OK to be scared.
Everyone, no matter how big, gets scared of reaching for the next solid thing to grasp in life.
Everyone.
But we have to talk ourselves into it.
There's no other way to reach the other side.



And you did.
You reached the next bar, an impressive feat.

Then, even more impressive, you asked for help.
I was right there to do just that.
I'm proud of you.
For trying to do it yourself, and for asking for help.

And I'll always be right beside you, ready to catch you if you fall. Ready to cheer you on when you get to the other side. Ready to wipe your tears if you get hurt.

Wordless Wednesday