As the song goes, it's like being too old for Lawrence Welk or not old enough for Mickey Mouse, too steppen' to Steppenwolf or too greasy for the Waffle House...
I took Mo to the park this evening. We were on our own since Em is on a sleepover for her BFF's birthday. I figured if she ran around on the playground a bit, she'd be more likely to not get up at two in the morning for the day. And it seemed like kite weather: every flag I saw today was standing out like a greeting card audition multiplied by an old Memorex magazine ad.
Anyway, Mo attacked the playground and I got the kite out. Em put it away after it's last flight, and I don't know why I'd underestimate my daughter, she's bright like an above ground nuclear test and all that, but I did. I expected a mess in the kite bag, but she'd wrapped the streamers around the guideline spool and hooked their eyes in the holes on the side of the spool. In other words, she'd put it away more properly than I ever have.
I remember the package said something about up to 18 mph winds. I knew we had more than that, but I'd flown it before in winds I knew were well beyond 18 mph.
But I've never been so certain the line would break. But it was gusty, too, and there were several times the kite just fell to earth.
So anyway, when we finally got home, Mo wanted to do sidewalk chalk. So I commenced construction on the latest member of the Whole Sick Crew. I haven't come up with a name yet. It's a BT-60 tube, 18" long, but I might cut it a little shorter to be more like Hannah, Lula, and Buster.
Not to mention Dudley.
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