Shae did a little gardening yesterday at my grandparents'. (Of course by "gardening" I actually mean "sitting in the dirt pulling out things that I hope to God aren't heirloom flowers.")
I love the gloves here. She saw my mother wearing a pair of gardening gloves, and so Shae needed gloves too. And while I probably have toddler-sized garden gloves somewhere in this festering ghetto black hole that we call a home ... wait, what was I saying? Anyway. Shae's gloves are my grandmother's winter "smoking gloves" that she leaves in the garage.
Oh, and by the way? How is it possible that this kid looks more and more like My Anonymous Mother everyday? Even my nephew Joey who is actually biologically related does not look this much like my mother.
It's creepy. I'd take my blood to the lab and demand a maternity test, but I know my mother is my mother because she gave me the migraines and the congenital crazies. And the Shively upper lip.