it's my mommyversary!

Oh, and Melody's birthday as well. We've been quite the team for seven years now! I can't believe my little squishball baby can read and write and think and all that good stuff that seven year olds can do.

She can even aim into a cup when she's carsick!

I know. Great story to use, right? But you'll love it.

Last week, we learned that my cousin, who just moved to the town we left last August, has cancer. (This is the part of the story that is not to love. The part that is incredibly unfair and makes me want to scream and throw things. But also the part of the story I'm hoping you'll say a prayer about before going on to the rest of the cute funny kid story.)

Dowlan and I went back to our old house to clear it out after the renter (who had not left yet and is being evicted. I know . . . this story just has all kinds of happy twists) and then spend the weekend with my cousin, her family and her mom/my aunt. Because my children aren't exactly of an age to be helpful in crisis situations, we left them with my parents to enjoy their weekend of spoilage while Dowlan and I headed off to do the dirty work.

We were seven miles from mom's when Melody announces "I feel rather unwell in my tummy," which, as we know, is how all children speak a few days before their seventh birthday (or at least the ones on British cartoons). I grab an empty 32 oz styrofoam cup and quote that sage-of-our-times, Wayne Campbell: If you're going to spew, spew in this.

She holds it for a minute or two as the urge passes, then returns it. Dowlan (inexplicably) tries to offer her a beverage, only to learn that her only option is old, flat Diet Coke. Charlie pounces on the old, flat Diet Coke offer and downs a watery ounce or two before it is retrieved. This proffering is in a cup identical to the empty cup and I don't think Charlie realizes that there are two cups.

A minute or two later, Melody has an urgent request for the returning of the cup. As I am now a mere three miles from my mother's house, I keep driving. Her aim is accurate; stopping will do no good.

When she is finished, there is an odd pause before Charlie says, "We're going to need some more Diet Coke."

He thinks about it a moment longer.

"And a new cup."