What's in your wallet?

I think my inner slob weeped, just a little, when someone confused me with a Fly Lady disciple. They were tears of joy; I have to savor the moments I appear to be orderly. It's not my nature.

I cared for my sister's little boys until last spring. I used to pick up Zack's 'girlfriend' from preschool everyday. I drove a hulking big durango and carried a purse that would make a survivalist proud. I carried goldfish crackers, wipes, binkies, extra paper and pens, a spare diaper and a gallon of antibacterial gel. I WAS PREPARED.

Last summer it occurred to me: I don't have babies anymore. They're real kids now. So, I downsized. I bought a nifty little car. I bought myself a wee little purse - something carefree and light. It's a little slip of a purse, a wallet really. It's liberating.

I packed a basket in my car with sunscreen, wipes, Excedrin and a first aid kit. We are ready to roll.

My back sings my praises.

Wee baby purse

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