Yesterday, toddling along a trail at the park, Kamal spotted a fat, cheeky old squirrel with whom he desired an audience maybe more than he has ever desired anything in his whole little life. And Cheeky Fatty was having none of it. And then I remembered the airplane packet of peanuts that I had sleepily accepted from a flight attendant way back in September and stashed in my giant purse even though I don't love peanuts.
A few seconds of rooting around and I found it, crumpled, nearly forgotten, perfect. And like magic I morphed from a just-barely-keeping-her-shizni