Holding a balloon under one arm and eating a rainbow sprinkle crepe because Boy took my yummy strawberry Nutella crepe and handed me his balloon looking at me all like ' how do you expect me to eat your crepe with this balloon
And I'm all like. O.K - I can take that. I'll eat the sickly kids crepe that you insisted on having until 5 minutes ago and I'll hold that purple balloon like my life depends on keeping it safe because it means that much to you.
And I'll do it, and I'll hold it and I'll swap for worse food because I love you.
I'll pick you up off the train platform when you scrape your knee and carry you up a bazillion steps and check your O.K and since you're not yet, I'll carry you down another bazillion steps to get to the other side.
Because I love you.
I'll be excited the first time you say " we're on a train!" and the second time and the third...and the fiftieth. Because you're saying it with the same vigour fifty times so I can agree with the same vigour fifty times.
Because I love you.
Having a friend means:
Knowing I can send a text at 6.46am and that you won't care it's so early.
Because you love me.
Having someone to palm the super heavy nappy bag off to, and to sit with Boy on the train and exclaim with just as much vigour something train related... Like " now we're in a tunnel"
Because you love us both.
Lining up for crazy amounts of time and doing nothing productive and not reaching destination Ellen and agreeing to concede because you can tell I'm over the dust and the heat and the waiting cause I am weak.
Thanks for the day Julia and Boy, you take mediocre to literally amazing.