She has always had her own unique way of living life.  She makes us laugh, makes us cry.  Makes us pull our hair out sometimes, but always does things her way.

Driving to school this morning, we are on the 10th of our 12-mile drive when Seneca pipes up to say, “Ya know when you told me not to say ‘Booooooo!’ at the basketball game?”  I nodded and she continued.  “I didn’t know they were saying ‘Boooooooooo!’  I thought they were saying, ‘Moo!’

She threw her head back and let loose a belly laugh that should’ve rattled some of those stubborn baby teeth loose.  I couldn’t help but laugh with her, considering how silly she must’ve thought everyone around us looked for mooing like cows!!

Walking into the botanical gardens, we are only a few steps from the van when I hear her say to my mom, “Grandma, I heard Shiloh died.”  My mom was on the phone, her back to me, so I don’t know if she heard.  Seneca tried again. Repeating the statement.  Just last night, I had told the kids that Grandma’s dog had died last Thursday, and that Grandma was feeling very sad.  She had him for nearly 11 years.

And here she is, her tender heart, wanting Grandma to know that she’s aware.  She didn’t misunderstand this time.  She knows what it means to be sad and she knows that talking and loving can help make you feel better.  I’m sure they talked more about it later, but after stating it twice, she moved on to say, “Grandma, I heard you’ve never been here.  Let’s go!”

She’s always had her own unique way of living life.