Ramen noodles with a dear friend. That's not even the large size. The large size you can dive into from a height of twenty feet and still not touch the bottom. Don't ask me how I know that.
My suddenly grown up Sophie, leaving with a friend (who calls me mom whenever she comes over and who looks so much like Izzy, I feel like I got a fourth girl) for a volleyball tournament in Phoenix.
My husband went along the second his schedule freed up.
Warming up for a Saturday morning high school orchestra audition.
High school! Izzy is growing up, too.
She went in there all by herself and played her little heart out.
Caroline, who came along as support, fortified herself with two library books just in case, making her a girl after my own heart.
That night we had a movie party and our pick was a unanimous hit. Afterward, Izzy tried to articulate what she loved about the animation, how it was sort of bizarre and creepy, but in a...
"Delicious way?," I suggested.
"Yes! Deliciously creepy!," she said, satisfied.
"That's my favorite kind of creepy," I said.
"Mine, too," she replied, and we smiled at each other.
"Mine, too," said Caroline, piping into the conversation, "Deliciously creepy is my favorite kind of creepy, too."
Then we all smiled together and Izzy passed me a chocolate and this became a moment I will look back on when I'm trying to think of a time I was truly and completely happy.