The Roo-girl and I made very important purchases this week.
We bought multi-vitamins.
Yeah, I know. I'm a derelict mother for not providing this healthful support to my child's well-being in the past. So sue me. And call Child Protective Services. It wouldn't be the first time.
We bought vitamins, and we each got our own bottle. It was really an exciting moment, but difficult at the same time.
You see, Missy Roo is very petite for her age. At 13, she barely tops 4-foot-8, towering under all her friends, and only recently was excited to discover that she had reached 80 pounds.
She also is an athlete (her cheer coach tells me she is nationally ranked, but I haven't a clue how she figures that) and therefore very fit with an eight-pack (yes, she counts them).
Is she physically an adult? No. But she r.e.f.u.s.e.s. to take any kind of medicine she has to chew (she learned to swallow pills at a very early age), so children's vitamins are kinda out. Which left me reading all kinds of vitaminly labels and scratching my head.
Aw, screw it. We finally just picked one. And a generic one at that.
Then there was me. Why, yes, we could have bought one kind for the two of us. Why do you ask?
I am a woman "of a certain age."
And that "certain age" means there are "certain things" that don't work quite as well as they used to.
So I got this:
There was a reason for it.
But I forgot what it was.