In my family, there's a story we like to tell about my daughter. She was in the second grade when her daddy noticed banners announcing sign-ups for youth softball.
And oh, how his eyes lit up and lo, the excitement was palpable when he asked his young progeny if she'd like to try playing softball. She energetically nodded her head and although I knew she was really in it for the uniform, I agreed to let her play.
(I must interject here that I am not what you would call a sedate fan who quietly enjoys sporting events and doesn't speak above her "inside voice." I'm a bit "appreciative" you might say and somewhat... "expressive.")
(I think the term I'm looking for here is LOUD.)
K played second base and one bright sunny saturday I was "appreciating" the game when I noticed my sweet princess running onto the field and her shoelaces (cleatlaces???) were untied. With a stage whisper at the same decibel level of 747 preparing for take-off, I got her attention and told her to tie her shoes. To which she put her hands on her hips and said, "I CAN'T!!!! I'VE GOT MY GLOVE ON!"
She had what you might call a touch of the melodrama. And while I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA where she got that from, I do believe she may have passed it on.
Y'all might have noticed that yesterday was Father's Day. 'Bean and her mama and daddy came over for a late lunch after church and let's just say somebody needed a nap.
Her mama laid her down on my bed and walked out and closed the door. (2nd interjection: I must admit ..this always amazes me when she does this. Because the crying and the whimpering? It melts me. I am powerless to resist, but her? Ice in her veins y'all...ice in her veins. *shiver*)
We sat in the dining room and listened in awe at the sounds coming from my bedroom. I could have sworn someone was in there strangling a chicken, but no...it was my sweet Butterbean doing her best to squeeze out some tears so people would pity her.
Finally she managed to reasonably mimic a true cry and I couldn't take it anymore. I peeped in on her and her dedication to her performance rivaled anything Sally Fields has ever even thought about doing.
She was laying in the middle of the bed flat on her back. Her arms were straight down at her sides and her legs were up in the air. Her eyes were squinched shut in concentration and she would take a breath and squawk. Take a breath and squawk harder.
I must have made a sound because suddenly her eyes popped open and when she saw me she was all "UH-OH..THE JIG'S UP!!" and then, "QUICK!!! LOOK CUTE!!!"
And the display of grins and gurgles and fluttering of the eyes I was treated to almost ended me.
I scraped my heart up off the floor and caved in to the merciless onslaught.
Then I started gathering up dust rags and planning out the trophy case. Because when she wins the Oscar y'all...Mimi wants to be prepared.