For the last few nights, my niece has stayed at our house.
Thankfully, she is now old enough to arrange her own hair. Having only boys and lacking any interest in spending time on my curls, beyond what is necessary to look somewhat civilized, I never quite knew what I was supposed to do with her long, straight, dark hair. I would shrug, she would shrug, and we would settle for “combed” as an acceptable style.
So I was relieved when she grabbed a hair dryer and styled her own hair.
But she still requires us to feed her.
So, on Tuesday night, after picking her and Younger up from school, we visited the grocery story to gather ingredients for tacos. Unfortunately, I had forgotten I didn’t have any grape juice, which I tend to stock when I know I have her or my nephew for a meal. So, when my husband called on his way home from work and asked if he needed to grab anything, I asked him to stop at a convenience store for an individual-sized carton of grape juice.
He came home with grape soda.
Apparently, they didn’t have grape juice.
He thought he was close enough.
My niece did, too.
And her parents, well, we won’t ask them, now, will we?