The proof is in the hair-do: disheveled braids. ..grass poking out from here and there.
You simply don't get this kind of hair by sitting pristinely sipping tea with pinky elevated. Not to say that isn't a kind of fun all of it's own.
Nope. This kind of hair is created when one learns to log-roll down a grassy hill in the springtime.
On Friday night, Bill, Camille, Liv and I headed out to see Uncle P.J. at the Burke High School track here in Omaha. As the girls varsity pole vault coach, he was just finishing up for the day with his coaching duties. We all perched on a hillside to watch the finish of the track meet, and the magic began as we watched P.J. put on his too-fun uncle hat.
P.J. always has it in him to teach the girls something new and fun...something that probably woudn't even occur to mom...in style that I could never match. Friday, it was Camille's lesson in log-rolling down a hill. I watched in complete adoration as he tucked himself into a straight line and demonstrated the perfect log-rolling technique and then proceeded to line-up Camille, cross her hands on top of her chest, and nudge her on the first of many, many, many rolls down the hill. Before long, she was scrambling up the hill, asking for more...and more...and more. "Uncle P.J., I want to roll down the hill again with you!"
Seemingly always needing to add her own style to any situation, given her 5-inch waist span, every time she rolled down the hill she started to lose her pants and show a little moon, which made her giggle even more.
I wish I would have had my camera to catch that ear-to-ear Camille grin....the perfect accent to the spring green backdrop. But, alas, since I didn't, you'll have to settle for the proof in the do.
We love you, Peej.
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