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It’s hard being 6. It’s hard waiting for birthdays. Countdown paper chains barely take the edge off of waiting. Knowing that most of the birthday celebration will happen a day early only makes things that much more exciting. Tomorrow cannot come soon enough!

Gwen’s room barely passes as clean. The closet is stuffed full. Don’t open the doors or you may be buried alive. I read Junie B. Jones books to keep her moving. It didn’t really help today. She is too excited.

The latest book was about monsters under the bed. At one point Gwen lifted her blankets to check under her bed. Only there are no monsters under her bed. Not because monsters don’t exist but because even if they did, there is no room for a monster under her bed. She dropped the blanket back in place, satisfied with my logic.

If you ignore the paper scraps scattered on the floor you can see floor. That’s how low my standards have sunk. At one point she picked her way through the landmine of toys to tidy up the explosion otherwise known as her bookshelf. I told her not to worry about the bookshelf. I just wanted the room clean. Clean meaning I just wanted to see the floor. Minus the paper scraps the floor is visible. Seven years ago I went through surgery to get this kid out of me and all I want in return is to sort of see floor.

It’s hard raising myself and even harder to wait for birthdays. Seven colorful years of Miss Gwen. Man I love that little booger!

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