Ever since we returned from Skye’s eight-day East Coast Birthday Party Tour, Marcy has been on us like The Hoff on a cheeseburger. She refuses to take her eye off of us for a second, squeezing her way onto my office chair, her father’s lap and our bed at night — and, most surprisingly, waiting outside of Skye’s room as she sleeps, eager for the kid to come out and play with her. And by “play with,” I mean “pound on.”
Yes! After Marcy’s Great Summer Depression of ’09, she and Skye have become sweet buddies; a coming-together even more unlikely, and certainly more anticipated around the world, than Reagan and Gorbachev.
I just love how Marcy is loving up Mr. Candy ON HIS FRESHLY LAUNDERED BLACK PANTS. Don’t think that’s not deliberate. She’s all, Yeah, I’m thrilled you’re finally home. But that’s not going to stop me from exacting my revenge, bitches!