Meredith Carson... Across the Pond and Back Again...

Last week my oldest daughter attended a poetry camp.  She was pretty private about all of the camp happenings during the course of the week and mentioned very nonchalantly on Wednesday that there would be a poetry reading on Friday.  "How exciting!" I thought.  I knew that I'd love to go and hear my girl recite a poem or two that she'd scratched out during the week, so I arrived with average expectations and left with puffy eyes and a bursting heart. I think that Emma Carson is a little bit special, and here are a couple of her poems for your enjoyment.  Hearing them read by my girl with cool confidence and captivating expression was almost more than this mama could handle. An Inspiration My dad is Christmas pancakes in August. My dad is a ghost-buster on Halloween. My dad brings you a rose at school on your birthday. My dad is unexpected. My dad knows everything but doesn’t boast. My dad is a teaser. My dad is heart-fully sorry that he teased you. My dad w...

This morning my daughter and I got up really early.  I made coffee, the real kind, and fed my girl the breakfast cookies I had made around midnight the night before.  We made our way to the Community Center at 7:00.  My daughter donned tacky mismatched socks, had her hair painted red, stretched her muscles, listened to some motivational tunes on her mp3 player, and then set off with her official "running buddy" on her first ever 5K run. Emma ran and ran with her trusty running partner, Mrs. Adams, who also happens to be her adorable art teacher.  While my girl ran, I cheered for girls.  I cheered for all of the girls, especially the girls in blue shirts who were part of the Girls on the Run program.  (I also cheered for an old guy wearing a neon yellow "Jogging With Jesus" t-shirt, not that he needed my encouragement.)  I cheered and cheered.  I yelled until my throat felt sore, "Go, Girls!!"  I hooted and hollered and shook a pink...