SEVEN

Do you remember what it felt like to be seven years old, at the playground, with your best friend, on a sunny day, and there's some open swings?







They swing, and some color catches my eye.







A young baby watched them with great interest and a big toothless smile. Someday she will be seven, too.




And then we went back home again and MissG threw up undigested Spaghetti-O's with Mini-Meatballs. She's OK now.

Ah. Seven.