As I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm rooming with a 7 year old little girl for the next year.
I'm rooming with a 7 year old.
Let's just let that sink in for a minute.
So, aside from the pink things everywhere (oh wait, that my stuff, I mean the "extra" pink things), the fabulous Holly Golightly eye mask that she will NOT sleep without every night, and the turtles that I feel are TAKING OVER my life (she loves turtles. Y'all, I will never understand.) Aside from all of that, it hasn't been too bad. Just don't ask what she thinks. Miss Grace will undoubtedly tell you that I'm the meanest sister in the whole world and keep her up at night because I wont stop talking.
"Don't listen to that man behind the curtain!!!"
It's been great. I really love her crazy little personality. The other morning, she woke up giggling and I was a bit concerned (Did you hit your head, Grace? Again?), then she told me.
About her wonderful dream.
Unfortunately it was a dream and not real life. Real life was oatmeal, not cinnamon rolls.