Magical

A neighbor asked if I was surprised. My blank expression was accompanied by a four-second inner monologue echoing in my brain that went something like this: "Surprised that I'm a year older? That my nearly-eight-year-old spent half the church service hiding under the pew because he couldn't stand the guest-pastor's voice? That we might actually have some chicks hatching soon? That the mohawk fits the littler boy's personality perfectly? That someone broke the unspoken no-birthday gifts rule and did a dang good job of it too!? Oh, no. Wait. What if it's that thing that I joked to my husband was going to happen only because the winner gets a girly girl prize, and that is just my luck."

And yep, it was that thing.

4H kids learn a whole lot of life skills, like the uncanny ability to put together a very very last minute entry for the Fair and still somehow walk away with the super-fancy Champion ribbon. It's a priceless talent to have, really. My Mom will be thrilled to hear that I've still got what it takes.

So I sincerely ask, what in the world will I do with a $20 styling salon gift certificate?

My husband sincerely asked, "What if a man had won it?"

I looked at his partly-bald head and giggled, "I guess you could get your hair cut!"

Anyway, last night topped off a pretty great week with a magical combination of ingredients: My children were sleeping and their Daddy was home to watch them. It was warm out. There was just enough breeze to keep the mosquitoes from being obnoxious. In a quiet corner of the barn, tiny peeps sang to their Mama hen as they fought their way out of their shells and into a whole new world. Electrons from the sun were blasting the Earth's magnetic field, causing the sky to dance overhead.

To the best of my knowledge, none of the psychotic little skunks crossed my path when I was out of the car.

And I stayed up way, way too late.

Magic, I tell you.