Bad days happen. Bad weeks hit us. A month can accumulate a number of these days and weeks, and it seems like the other shoe has dropped, there has been rain at our parade, and the doc says the camel's back is broken by that pesky piece of straw. Lawn mowers break down days after weed eaters bite the dust two weeks after the starter goes out in one vehicle when the air was already out and the battery was just replaced in the other. And so the grass is growing higher while responsibilities pile up at work, and homework is assigned, and students die, and new coaches have long nights away from home, and a string of (thankfully) minor illnesses/infections hit the family requiring appointments and driving and medication and stool samples and explosive diapers and days missed at daycare and work. And life seemed normal and then one day you wake up and it is all of this and one ounce too much. But then she's giggling. From her gut. And grinning. With those two bottom teeth sticking