Pie for Dinner

One of my girlfriends stopped by to give me a ride to pie club/book club tonight, and we stopped along the way to pick up her daughter from daycare.

(That's her tiara in her cubby -- which made me think, I need a cubby at my office where I can keep my tiara.)

The first thing we noticed about her little girl -- easily visible to the naked eye -- was a scrape alongside her right cheek. Asked what happened, she said matter-of-factly, "oh, Jacob punched me in the face."

We glanced over at Jacob -- an angelic looking little blonde cherub playing ball off to the left who shrugged, as if to say, "ehhh, whaddayagonnado?" Now, of course, I'd never advocate non-politically-correct violence of any kind (much less among children), but I was a little envious at the way these two had sorted out their differences with so little drama attached. The teacher had Jacob come over for a hug, and as far as I could see, everybody went home with all their issues resolved.

And then we all went and had pie for dinner, pre book club, which (if you don't know) can be the beginning and end of the WORLD for a 4-year-old. (I think the running chant from the backseat all the way there was "I want Piiiiie! Pie for DINNER!!! Pie. In. Me! Piiiiiiiie! In. My. Stomach.... CHERRY piiiiiiiie.")

Y'know, it isn't so bad at 44 either.