Wrapped

There's something about having someone else wrap you up in a towel that just feels amazing. Having a personal assistant towel wrapper is one of the million things I miss about being a kid.

The tricky part was the way they'd wrap your hair up in a turban. Your head would be so heavy that you had to walk 'just so', scurrying along with your legs wrapped a bit too tightly together to walk in a normal fashion.

I loved the turban. Oh man. It was the greatest. I knew as I floated along with my ears and my looong hair wrapped up in it that this was the stately way a queen walked with her crown of jewels. When I forgot to walk 'just so' and it tumbled out I'd get so frustrated. I'd stand there looking at my lovely turban, now just a silly towel on the floor.

Picking it up was no easy feat as the rest of me was wrapped up like a little girl burrito. I'd have to try to bend down and pick it up between two little fingers. Once I finally triumphed in the Amber vs. towel showdown I'd have to skirt down the hall to find my mom like a little terrycloth lightening bolt. Time was of the essence. You always risked her deciding your hair was dry enough to no longer need a turban. Hopefully that wasn't the case and she'd use her vast abilities to wrap you all up again with what seemed like such an origami magic trick.

Now I dip my wet head down while stepping out of the shower, twist and I'm ready to go. I don't even appreciate the turban! It's funny how things reverse when we grow up. Stuff that was a cinch when I was little can be so elusive sometimes. All the while, things that seemed near impossible as a kid happen while I'm barely thinking.

OK. I promise that's as pensive as I'm going to get today.

Here's to the happy little moments--like Fridays! Hear, hear!
Listening to right this second: 'The Way I Loved You" -- Taylor Swift