First off, the Big City Flower Show which I have looked forward to for weeks was an unequivocal dud. It could more accurately be called the Big City Lumpy Pottery and Hippie Craft Show. Far from the lush masses of flowers I'd been describing to my girls, there were only a few scraggly, frightened-looking bouquets for (exorbitant) sale at a few of the vendors. Had we been in the market for homemade dog biscuits, bad watercolors of flowers, or a gazebo we would have been in luck. We were not.
The show was housed in an industrial building down on the wharf. This pseudo-airplane hangaresque building's main qualities were:
-Very dim lighting
-Lack of enough bathrooms
Then The Bug started to feel sick. We cut our losses and fled.
Instead of the fantastic photos of flowers I had planned to attach to this post, I offer the following conversation from lunch.
Me: Bear, I'm going to call you "Crash" from now on. (In reference to last night when she broke a whole stack of dishes while unloading the dishwasher).
The Bear: Hey!
Daddy Shortbread: Yeah, that's perfect!
The Bug: Or...how about "Idiot"?