In June of 2004 my little girl was 6-years-old. I turned on the TV to the Weather Network for a bleak forecast of rain. I was also reminded that is was election day. Muttering to myself about having to make the time to vote Rian pipes up, “I vote for sunny.”
A few days later, Rian remarked that her brother, then 4-years-old, still had skid-marks. I was doing his laundry and don’t recall skid-marks. Confused by this statement I asked her to clarify. She said, “You know, skid-marks. Like the one that’s shaped like a happy face.” Laughing I straightened her out – her little brother has birthmarks, one of which looks like a happy face.