Today is my wife’s birthday; she got two DVDs and a CD and turned 31 — she still can’t believe it. She met me in her early 20s; she’s now been married to me for 1/5 (20%) of her life.
The downside of any of her birthdays that ends in “1” is that the next day I’m having a birthday that ends in “0”. So yes, I’ll be 40 tomorrow.
Rebecca continued to turn a corner with food. Today, like the last couple of days, she had three full meals without acting as she was being tortured. She still doesn’t ask for food, but will eat at meal times. We re-introduced applesauce today; she’d hated it the last time we tried, but ate it today (first bite caused a sour expression, but I told her it would make her happy inside and she seemed to accept that).
Again it was cool in the morning, climbing to mid-80s by afternoon (tomorrow supposed to see 90s).
My wife had a training class for her job in the afternoon; a couple of hours of overtime.
A girl, about 10, rang our doorbell during that time. When I opened the door, she mumbled something. I said, “I’m sorry; I can’t hear you.” She said, barely audible, “Do you want to order?” I asked, “Order what?” She held up an order form with a couple of names on it. “What are you selling?” I prompted. She finally realized the catalog for her fundraiser was underneath the order form and showed it to me. They were selling packages of dip mix and cookie dough mix. I thanked her but said we didn’t need anything. She turned and left without a word.
I know it wasn’t her fault that whoever was in charge of the fundraiser chose some pretty crappy things to sell, but someone needs to work with these kids about sales pitches. Here’s what I need to know from a child helping raise funds: (1) What organization are you selling for? (school, band, church, cheerleading squad, etc.) (2) What are you raising money for? (summer camp, trip to Six Flags, uniforms, etc.) and (3) What are you selling? If you can tell me those three things up front, I might buy just to help you raise funds or might just donate funds to help the cause.
In the evening, we walked as usual to check the mail, and Rebecca kept going afterward, and began pointing at the playground, which she could see from a distance, so we walked all the way there. The path doesn’t go in a straight line; Rebecca kept wanting to cut across the grass, pointing to the playground. I finally convinced her that the path would get us there — she was worried that I was leading her in the wrong direction.
She walked right up to two high-school-age boys who were playing basketball and stood there grinning at them as if waiting to be asked to join in. One of them smiled at her which made her day.