Hand It to Us

There was a lot of ice cream in my life this weekend, and it got all over my face too.


That was nothing compared to your hands.


I didn't realize that when daddy took me to Midsummer Night's Swing, my hands were as important as my feet. More important in your case, short stuff.


Dress as your favorite team was hard at school. On the one hand, I wanted to support daddy by celebrating the first-place Red Sox; on the other hand, I didn't want to get picked on at school or upset my mother - so I compromised.


Nana lent a hand when I got fussy and made me smile.


We gave the Brooklyn Cyclones a big hand when they beat the Doubledays in honor of Oscar's birthday (yes, for those of you keeping track, his birthday is August 19 so we were a month early).


But of all the hands, nothing beats holding your sister's. Except holding YOUR sister's.