Dang it. My best mittens, the lined ones. Ripped. (A small rip, it's true, but still.)
Remember the Children's Museum excursion?
Yes, that one. All that climbing, I suppose it was bound to happen.
The more I thought about it, though, the more I thought that maybe it was a good thing. Every time I see that rip, I'll think of that weekend, and I'll smile.
What rips and scars in our lives serve as reminders of "the good ol' days"?
P.S. I feel like I've neglected this blog - so much to finish up with report cards and our annual young adult retreat. Hopefully things will settle down soon...
