Certifiable

I didn’t know Laylee was certifiable but she has a card that says otherwise. I took her to Seattle Children’s Hospital for a CPR course for babysitters yesterday, handed her over to some strangers for five hours and she came out of it with this card and the ability to save your life, especially if you are pediatric in nature.

She is prepared to crack your ribs if necessary. She told me this. And, although it would be awkward, she is willing to remove any clothing that gets in the way. Because. And she was very clear on this. Your life is at stake and that’s more important than worrying about awkward nudity. I wipe away a silent tear of parental pride.

I spent the five hours sitting in a lobby at the hospital working on my manuscript for the next Drops of Awesome project due out from Familius in 2016. It’s a gift book about ways to be Awesome and it’s taking an awful lot of time and thought for so short and cute of a book. I hope you love it. You probably will. Re: you are awesome.

Later in 2016, we’re planning to release a third Drops of Awesome book, tentatively titled Autobiography of Awesome, a much more in-depth guided journal that gives you prompts to help you write the history of your beautiful life. I’m working on that right now too and it may be my favorite book yet. I’m so excited to use it!

To celebrate, we drove a mile to the U District and stopped at Full Tilt Ice Cream, where I proceeded to buy bigger-than-your-head waffle cones for everyone I could find who was a) my daughter and b) had just finished a CPR course. They were all super grateful.

I sampled the wares as well, just to be sure they weren’t poison and because my budding life saver refused to order chocolate-covered bacon as a topping on her cone. Something needed to be done with regards to that travesty.

One of us ended up with melted ice cream between our toes. Not naming names. Follow my eyes.

And we came home to a sweet and tired family who had spent the day at our small town’s yearly festival, a magical place where tractors,

unmarked wooden carts full of townspeople,

tanks,

time machines,

fruit people

and dancing Mexican horses

delight the crowds and show off our rich cultural sub-rural Washington heritage.

I was pretty sad to miss the fun, but, hey. If Laylee is willing to crack your ribs and rip your clothes off to save your life, I guess I’m willing to miss a parade with a tin man bee keeper riding in a flatbed truck. You’re welcome.