Her Hairness (or, INDEPENDENCE DAY!)

The day finally arrived: our long national nightmare is over. And some cancer-stricken child will have the most beautiful wig ever. 

Here she is, washing it herself for the first time (she now has her own comb, brush, and drawer for all her hair stuff and wants to do it all herself, which suits me so much more than just fine).

P.S. Happy Fourth from my little firecrackers! (Happy cracker fireworks day!)

 

  

 Cordelia watched some of the fireworks from the back of the minivan, crammed into my lap, which was quieter, but still too scary. So we retired inside, where she watched from her window, and I struggled to keep my eyes open. Old. So old.