Owwside?

When Moira was little and we lived in our apartment she wanted nothing more than to go outside. Breakfast wouldn’t be finished before the lobbying began:

“Owwside?”
“Owwside!”
“Owwside?”
“Owwside!”

She would follow me around chanting that word over and over again with the same cadence – once a question, remedy then a demand.

“Owwside?”
“Owwside!”
“Owwside?”
“Owwside!”

I remember one time I was on the phone with my sister and Moira just wouldn’t stop:

“Owwside?”
“Owwside!”
“Owwside?”
“Owwside!”

So in one ear I had a small child begging to get out of the house and in the other I had my sister laughing rather hysterically at the persistence of said small child.

Happiness is:

Dear Spring,

I won’t mind the slush and dirt and crazy oscillating temperatures as long as we can go owwside again. (Because this is the only way we are going to not drive each other nuts until summer gets here.)

Love, Melanie

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