The Butterfly had a blast at her friend’s house last week, rolling around the lawn in a giga ball.
She tried to talk me into trying it with her. I refused, of course. I said I was sure there was a weight limit. There probably is.
Truth? It looked a little nauseating. And I don’t like small spaces or being out of control. I can handle being wrapped in seaweed, but encased in plastic? Um. No.
Damn. I really am getting old, huh?
I was perfectly content standing around taking pictures of her smiling face and listening to her laughter. Being old and uptight works for me.
This post is a part of Wordless Wednesday at Pictimilitude:
