The very best kind of help

Busy Monday today. It's crazy getting everything stuffed into a box and ready for the UPS truck at 4:00 and then running to the Post Office at 4:30. I feel like I've made the big touchdown and I want to spike the ball (or box) and do a little victory dance every time I make it to the Post Office before they lock the doors. The ladies there have assured me that if I were to place my sad little nose against the glass and squeeze out a tear or two that they'd let me in anyway. I'd prefer not to put that to the test.

I had a helper this afternoon. My niece Dani came with Grampa 'cuz it was her turn. She's five years old and very smart and loves her Aunt Becky - told you she's very smart. After we got tired of drawing monkeys, she went through my desk drawer looking for treasures. Found a couple of quarters and a guitar pick, a paperclip, an envelope, a q-tip and some sticky-notes. Then she sat on a stool next to my work table so that we could "talk", and informed me that when she grows up she wants to be a Pop Star.
At first I thought she said Poptart, but I was corrected very quickly. She's going to be a Pop Star and wear cute boots and ride in a limousine. She would also like to go to Disneyland. And ride a horse a lot. Oh yeah - she's gonna wear a long pink wig too. Grampa is going to drive the limo.
When I told Grampa of her plans for him, I was reprimanded because I wasn't supposed to tell him. She was a little upset because he laughed. How do you relay to a child that sometimes they say funny things? I explained that some of the things she says are funny because she's so smart. That got me a big smile and everything was okay again.
Then we sang the alphabet song and counted to 29... that's as high as I can go.