Shel, my two-year old, loves earrings, but he's no jeweler.
When Grandma visits, he touches her pearl adorned ears, calls them "ear balls", and refuses to be corrected. We laugh.
Photo of the fascinating "ear ball"
It's a classy term for those luminous miracles from the bottom of the sea...right?
Maybe I do that sometimes. Maybe I see something completely amazing and beautiful, and my little mind names it something ridiculous.
Maybe when I say my day is "bad" I'm naming pearls "ear balls", like a confused two year old who doesn't know what he's seeing.
Today was...hard...for me.
I lost count of Time Outs. I was shot in the bottom multiple times with rubber suction cup bullets. I made a delicious and healthy dinner that no one under 18 would eat. My bathroom has been through a lot in the name of Potty Training. People threw fits (not me) and threw toys at walls, and cried for whatever they DIDN'T have, and did other things that I shall not mention here. The city shut my water off for two hours. My clothes are mysteriously sticky.
There's a rubber bullet stuck to my window sill, a remnant that testifies to today's battle.
But, maybe today wasn't a war. Maybe it was something beautiful, something I'll miss when I'm alone and eating my vegetables in peace.
I keep looking at that rubber bullet. It's not glamorous, but it's sure hilarious.
I'm naming today "wonderful".
So there.
*and YES, I do amuse myself when I name my blog post something ridiculous.
