Julie took Lyla to see Irish dancing this afternoon. She was riveted, and the outing's only hitch came when Julie had to break it to Lyla that she would not, in fact, get to go on stage herself and Irish dance. I have a feeling it'll happen one day, though.
Face painting and lunch made everything better, as it usually does.
And three seconds into the return trip, she lost consciousness.
Meanwhile, I stayed at home with Rowan, who took a two-hour nap. Unconscious toddlers: the true gold at the end of the rainbow.
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