Here's another snippet of a Christmas poem, this one from 2008. As I reread it, it brought back a flood of messy, fun memories.
ON BEING A GRITTY GRANDMA
Being a grandma takes grit and
luckily grandkids provide it.
With boots and shoes and sugar spills.
Through snow slides into muddy creeks,
strawberry and sour apple picking,
jam and applebutter brewing,
and the absolute best mud fight ever.
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