Hooray for the Happy Bunny Place. Hooray and huzzah!
Toodlee-doot-tee-doo. Happy Places for everyone. Here’s a Happy Place for you … and one for you … and a grand one for you too.
Ah, to only make it that easy. I talked on the phone with a friend today who’s going through a bit of a rough patch. It’s that young mommy, waaay-too-much-on-the-plate thing that has flattened her to the wall and made her consider plucking her eyes out because the pain of it would help her think of something else. She cried in my ear, great heaving, gulping sobs that gave her hiccups. I didn’t know what to say.
Then I did a foolish thing. I promised her that things would get better. At least, I promised that in ten years, we would NOT be having this same conversation. Of course, I didn’t mention that by then we’d be talking about her baby’s first bra or that our own boobs would be scraping our knees … or that we’d be trying to figure out why our ears and noses got larger the minute we entered our dotage.
I don’t know if I helped much, but by the end of our talk, she had stopped hiccuping and had moved on to something productive like pouring her second glass of chardonnay.
Yeah, that’s me — the Oprah of Happy Bunny Places. And you get a Bunny Place … and you get a Bunny Place … and YOU get a Bunny Place!