Even though I knew it was coming in the next five to seven days, it was still a pleasant, pleasant surprise to see an e-mail from Mum and Dad with those six magical words in the subject heading:
"Please send us your Christmas wishlist!"
Serious job or not, fully-grown adult living in the city or not, in-the-past-year transition from a wishlist that included a reasonably-priced Coach bucket bag as its top item to an it'll-never-happen McQueen mini or not, there's nothing like those rare moments when you're made to feel as young as a kid who still believes in the story of Santa Claus.
I apologize for the gratuitous when-I-was-wee photograph, but I thought this one better represented how similar my childhood cut was to Miss Katie's. Twinsies, right?
Plus, I also wanted y'all to see that Oklahomans aren't all tree-dwelling Jim Bobs with wheat-stems hanging from their mouths.
See, at the age of four we already know to keep our legs crossed ladylike during high-tea.
Even when it's held in the backyard sandbox.
I apologize for the gratuitous when-I-was-wee photograph, but I thought this one better represented how similar my childhood cut was to Miss Katie's. Twinsies, right?
Plus, I also wanted y'all to see that Oklahomans aren't all tree-dwelling Jim Bobs with wheat-stems hanging from their mouths.
See, at the age of four we already know to keep our legs crossed ladylike during high-tea.
Even when it's held in the backyard sandbox.
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