Plus She Can Fly

This kid came to visit us yesterday . . .

. . . and by "visit" I mean "did all our yard work."

. . .  and by "did all our yard work" I mean "planted all the plants we stole from her mom and dad."

. . .  and by "all the plants we stole from her mom and dad" I mean it was sanctioned thievery!

. . . Kat gave them to us!

. . . we went home in not-the-Westy-and-why-didn't-we-drive-the-Westy? full of all of the everything.


Our Field is now full of all the everything.

You remember this kid, right?

Yeah, her.

I know. She still makes that face.

I texted Jacquie for the inside poop on the confusing monkey-like creature on G's gloves, because I know Jacquie's girl had the same confusing monkey-like creature on her long-ago jammies:

Who's this again? The gloves, not the kid. I know the kid.
Skippy John Jones!
Aka?
Paul Frank.
How desperately boring.
Right?? 

She'll always be Skippy John Jones to me.

She's a warrior, this one.

Plus she's adventuresome . . .

. . . plus she's intrepid . . .

 . . . plus she can fly.